


A Robin’s Broken Wing

by My_Butt



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anorexia, Bad Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parenting, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, Flashbacks, French Kissing, Gay Sex, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth, Hand & Finger Kink, Hurt Tim Drake, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jason Todd Feels, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Licking, M/M, Medical Trauma, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Oral Sex, Other, Parent Death, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sex Toys, Sexual Abuse, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Tired Alfred Pennyworth, Top Jason Todd, Underage Rape/Non-con, Verbal Abuse, anorexic tim drake, don’t complain, if you don’t like it don’t read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:29:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Butt/pseuds/My_Butt
Summary: Tim pressed his face into his palms as he screamed out the pain he had been bottling up. Jason winced at the sound, finding it unbearable to handle. He desperately wanted to fix his little brother. To take his pain and endure it for him.Upon stumbling into the Bat Cave after being brutally assaulted, traumatized teenager, Tim Drake, steadily spirals out of control as he tries to survive each day with the continuing nightmares in the aftermath.But when he finally divulges his secrets to Jason, will he be able to start the healing process into recovery, or has he gone too far with his habitual means of coping in an unhealthy way?
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 26
Kudos: 243





	1. Panic Attack

Tim's back pressed against the wood paneled wall as he slid down and crumpled to the floor. Tears expelled from his eyes as he choked out a hiccup of air in exhaustion. Jason quickly gathered the sobbing teen into his masculine arms, providing a warm embrace for his defeated brother.  
Tim pressed his face into his palms as he screamed out the pain he had been bottling up. Jason winced at the sound, finding it unbearable to handle. He desperately wanted to fix his little brother. To take his pain and endure it for him.  
Jason clasped a warm hand on the raven haired boy's cheek and pressed him into his chest. He gently rocked back and forth trying to comfort Tim, as well as himself. But his kid brother had been broken.

Jason leaned his chin against Tim's head, breathing the scent of his ebony hair into his lungs. He cocked his head to the side to kiss Tim's sweat slick hair that was now sticking to his skin. Pressing his cheek against Tim, he squeezed his brother's small frame as tight as he could without hurting the kid. Tim's forehead felt hot against Jason's skin. He continued to rock as he whispered a hush of silence to the crying boy.  
When Jason moved his arm to get a better grip on his brother, his thumb snagged Tim's sweater sleeve and exposed the pale flesh flecked with pink scars and crimson scabs. The decorated skin of old and recent self-injuries. Jason hadn't realized how escalated the struggle had become for the young teen.

Jason's heart became heavy and he could feel his own hot tears begin to burn his eyes. How could a family of detectives let this go unnoticed for so long? The kid never ate anymore, he stayed in his room all day doing "work", and he never patrolled with anyone else.  
Jason was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Tim shaking and gasping for breath. He was hyperventilating.  
Jason cautiously grabbed the teen’s throat and angled his head upwards so he could see his face.  
"Tim, listen to me," Jason demanded in a stern, but worried tone. He could see the fear in the bloodshot, blue eyes staring back at him.  
"Breathe in. Take a deep breath, Tim!" Jason took an exaggerated inhale mimicking the type of breath he wanted Tim to imitate.  
The boy choked on a breath caught in his throat and continued to panic. His small fists clutched onto the older male's jacket.  
"Tim!" Jason shouted louder as he repositioned himself on his knees, pulling Tim in front of him, and grabbing the sides of his kid brother's face to hold his head steady. He kept his own face a mere inch in front of the teen's as he tried desperately to force everything around them out of focus.  
"Copy my breath, Tim. Come on." Jason breathed in deep, expanding his chest as he took notice of the kid obeying and attempting to take in more air. The taste of stale cigarettes lingered on Jason's tongue as he breathed breath after hot breath into Tim's face.  
Relief swept over Jason as he kept breathing deeply until Tim was able to match the same length of breath.  
"That's my boy!" He quickly pulled his little brother into his warm embrace for the small victory. "That's it, Babybird!"  
Jason brushed his hand against Tim's cheeks to wipe away the excess tears that had accumulated and dried. The only sound at the moment was the inhalation and exhalation of his younger brother breathing.  
He softly whispered into Tim's soiled locks, "That's it Timmy. You're gonna be okay." It may have been a lie, but it was more of a reassurance for himself. All he wanted to do was hold his brother as tight as he could and never let go.  
"Jason..."  
A muffled cry broke the silence as the teen pressed his face against Jason's chest.  
"Shh..." Jason cooed as he felt Tim's breath begin to shorten.  
"Calm down first, Babybird. We have all night to talk, but I want you to calm down first."  
Jason rubbed soothing circles on Tim's back rhythmically. As he traced his hand over the fabric of his thin sweater, he could feel the extreme sharpness of every protruding bone in his back. Vertebrae. Shoulder blades. Every individual rib...  
How was it no one had noticed the shape his kid brother was in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Panic Attack : a sudden feeling or episode of panic  
> specifically : a brief episode of intense fear or dread that is of sudden onset and typically subsides within 30 minutes, usually occurs for no apparent reason but may sometimes be associated with an identifiable triggering stimulus (such as an existing phobia), and is accompanied by a sense of unreality and impending loss of control and by various debilitating physical symptoms (such as increased heart rate, chest pain, dizziness, and shortness of breath).”


	2. Autophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I mean it, Tim. I may not understand right now, but I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere and I'll try my best to help you through this. I promise, I won't let you go through this alone anymore."  
> Jason pulled Tim into his warm, protective embrace.

As time lingered on, Jason could feel the weight of the previous events taking a toll on his tired, bloodshot eyes. Nodding off momentarily, he was jostled back to reality when he felt the boy in his arms tilt his head up to look at him.  
Jason placed a warm hand on Tim's flushed cheek and gave him a relieved smile that no more tears were falling from the younger's face.  
"Hey, Babybird," he whispered to the tired baby blue eyes peering up at him. With that, he decided to ease his aching body and retire to the unmade bed in the room.  
He scooped his arm under Tim's legs and hoisted him up bridal style. The younger brother didn't resist any and allowed himself to be carried. He draped his thin arms around Jason and rested his face in the crook of his neck. He breathed in his brother's scent, letting the intoxicating mix of ivory soap, aftershave, and sweat fill his lungs.  
As Jason crossed the room with no difficulties, he could feel the lithe weight of his little brother. Tim had always been thin even weighing up to one hundred pounds less than Jason, but he had to be just barely more than one hundred pounds now; the difference now matching his entire weight.  
Sharp edged bones pierced through the fabric of his clothes which made Jason more careful of the fragile cargo he held.  
The older gentleman gently laid the young teen on the bed and turned to tiptoe away when he felt little bony fingers wrap around his wrist. He snapped his gaze back and looked into the wide doe eyes of the young male.  
On the verge of more tears, Tim pleaded with his older brother. "Please don't go!"  
Jason placed a hand on Tim's sweat soaked, raven hair and leaned down to whisper sympathetic words. "I'll be right back. I'm just going to turn the lights off."  
He gave a dry kiss on the frightened teen's forehead and tussled his hand through the long locks that tangled around his callused fingers.  
Tim released his grip, trusting his brothers word for his return.

Jason made his way to the bright pool of light spilling out of Tim's private bathroom. He grabbed a thick, blue hand towel off the back of the mahogany door and held it under the warm running water at the sink. He glanced at his reflection taking note of the dark circles residing under his tired eyes.  
Jason bent down and rustled through the cabinet under the sink to find some bandages and gauze. He was pleased that the kid was meticulous about keeping everything organized.  
Flicking off the light switch and returning the bathroom to a cavern of darkness, Jason cautiously made his way back to Tim's bed, giving his eyes time to adjust to the emptiness of the colorless room surrounding him.  
The moonlight shining through the balcony window provided him with enough light to see the shadowy figures of furniture resting inside the still room.  
The thin teen had curled into himself on top of the messy covers, making himself appear even smaller than he had become in recent months.  
Jason set the bandages and gauze on the cluttered nightstand and took a seat on the edge of the queen sized mattress.  
Unsure if his silent brother was actually asleep or just trying to imitate unconsciousness to prevent any interrogations on his actions, Jason gently brushed his fingers over the young boy's sweater. He gripped the fabric and forced it slowly up Tim's  
torso, exposing the soft, pale flesh.  
The second youngest member of the Batfamily shot his hands down with lightning speed and shoved his baggy sweater back into place. He had gotten used to hiding his body from the rest of his detective family that it became instinct born into him to avoid human contact.  
"Come on, Timmy," Jason coaxed in a calm voice. "I already know they're there. I just want to clean them out is all."  
Tim rolled to the opposite side of the bed to escape Jason's roaming hands as he resisted the help and blathered on in a panic. "It's okay! I can go do that right now! I'll be right back-"  
"Tim!" Jason sternly shouted as he held on tight to Tim's wrist, preventing his sudden, explosive departure.  
Tim paused as he felt the panic well up in his chest. He knew Jason only had good intentions, but he was still fearful of what his brother would think of his shameful and grotesque marked skin. The ugly secrets forced to be worn like a dishonorable badge for all of eternity.  
"Hey!" Jason playfully jilted Tim's arm to snap him out of his daydream. He could sense the younger's anxiety, and treaded cautiously.  
"Come here," Jason motioned with a nod for Tim to return to the confines of the bed. He patiently tugged the teen's arm and coerced him back onto the sheets.  
As Tim obeyed and crawled closer to his brother, Jason again, reached for the hem of the oversized baggy sweater. He began to lift the fabric, but receded when Tim took control and did it the rest of the way himself.  
With the younger male's arms raised above, pulling the sweater up over his head, Jason's voice caught in his throat at the sight of Tim's naked torso. He had lost so much muscle and weight, leaving him to resemble a skeleton with skin stretched over sharp, angular bones.  
Jason's heavy heart burdened him once more as the painful sight was burned against his retinas. A memory he would find hard to shake.  
"Oh god, Tim," he staggered a breath over his hand as he covered his gaping jaw in shock. "Jesus! Look at you."  
Tim wrapped his arms around himself feeling ashamed and embarrassed by Jason's, understandable, reaction.  
Jason saw Tim's morose recoil and quickly grabbed his little brother by his biceps. He jerked the boy a little harder than he had intended.  
"Tim-" all he could manage to say was the kid's name before he shuddered a breath to stifle the sudden tears welling up inside.  
Jason took a deep inhale, regained his composure, and returned his hardened gaze back to Tim. The teen shrunk away while trying to avoid the hurt look on his older brother's face.  
"Tim," Jason said louder as he shook Tim's right arm to get the kid to look him in the eyes. "Listen, buddy. I'm not mad at you. Okay?"  
Tim didn't respond.  
Jason continued with a soft gruff in his voice, "I'm mad at myself for not noticing sooner. That I didn't notice how much pain you were in. I promise, Tim, I could never be angry with you. Okay?"  
Tim slightly tossed his head in acknowledgement, but Jason wasn't entirely convinced his brother believed his honest words.  
"I mean it, Tim. I may not understand right now, but I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere and I'll try my best to help you through this. I promise, I won't let you go through this alone anymore."  
Jason pulled Tim into his warm, protective embrace.  
"I'll stay with you for as long as you need me to. That's my promise to you, Tim." He eased his hand under Tim's chin and tilted the blushing face upwards. "I always told you I would protect you no matter what; even if that means I have to protect you from yourself."  
He released Tim's chin as he watched tears pool at the corners of the sea of blue eyes staring back at him.  
Jason grasped the nape of Tim's neck and placed a loving kiss on the teen's sticky forehead.  
Tim instantly hung his head as he forced himself to hold in his emotions. His fingers nervously picking at the skin next to his fingernails, he bit back the salty tears that were threatening to stain his rosy cheeks.  
Jason shifted on the bed to gather the damp towel and bandages. He held his palm out and was pleasantly surprised when Tim placed his injured forearm in the awaiting hand without resistance.  
"Thank you," Jason mumbled, as he didn't feel like fighting with any defiance in the late midnight hours.  
Jason dabbed at the superficial cuts decorating Tim's arm, making sure to be extra careful wiping the dried blood on the teen's skin. A few of the wounds broke open and began to seep blood again. He held the towel on the freckled goose flesh while applying pressure to the abrasions.  
"Does this hurt?" Jason asked, not wanting to cause anymore pain to the unsteady teen.  
"It feels better," Tim's voice cracked. His throat was raw and burned from the crying that ensued earlier.  
"Than what?" Jason scoffed.  
"Everything else."  
A silence fell between the two boys. Jason wasn't sure how to respond. He felt bad for his kid brother.  
As Jason focused on the task at hand, he heard Tim quietly utter his name.  
"Jason?"  
Jason didn't have to say anything to acknowledge he was listening. He just cocked an eyebrow upwards and waited.  
"I don't feel good," Tim self consciously moaned.  
"I know, buddy." Jason understood what Tim was trying to convey; he wasn't physically ill, but mentally and emotionally unwell.  
Tim continued in his soft tone with unease lingering on every spoken word, "are you gonna tell Bruce?"  
Jason felt backed into a corner with the query. "Why don't you talk to me first, kiddo?"  
Tim curled his lip in as he chewed on the skin of his chapped lips. He pondered what to say next, but no words could form that would express what he wanted to say.  
Jason unrolled the gauze and began to wrap Tim's arm. He waited for Tim to open up, but when he didn't say anything more, he asked a leading question.  
"Why do you do it?"  
"What?" Tim listlessly asked. He heard his brother's question, but he was trying to buy some time to think of a solid excuse that he could pass off as plausible.  
"What's going on in there?" Jason inquired as he tapped a finger to Tim's temple.  
"I don't know," Tim sighed in exasperation. He was torn between wanting to confide in his older brother, or continue to bottle everything inside. He was being ripped apart from the inside out.  
"What does the pain feel like?" Jason followed up.  
Tim had a sullen look mask over his face as he delivered his one word answer.  
"Unbearable..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Autophobia, or monophobia, is the fear of being alone or lonely. Being alone, even in a usually comforting place like home, can result in severe anxiety for people with this condition. People with autophobia feel they need another person or other people around in order to feel safe.“


	3. Atelophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason leaned on his elbows, giving himself some distance from Tim, whom had hunched forward and was now banging his clenched fists upon his thighs as he screamed every following word:  
> "I have lost so much already! My mom! My dad! Steph! Conner! My innocence..." Tim shook his head in a measure to erase the last admission as tears began to flow from his tightly compressed eyes.

"It's a constant numbness. Short temper. No focus... Patience is non existent. I think back through the week and it's a complete blur, like I had been in a coma. Time is slipping and I'm grasping at nothing but air, just trying to gain some ground.  
"It's not that I'm sad, depressed, angry, or whatever; it's like I blew a fuse and now I feel absolutely no emotion. It's that empty feeling that drives me over the cliff's edge... And I can see the edge vastly approaching."

A moment of silence broke the tension of lyrical words before Jason softly spoke encouragingly to his damaged brother, "that's very poetic, Tim. How long have you been feeling this way?"  
"Awhile," Tim vaguely answered.  
Jason rose from the bed and placed the damp towel, now stained with remnants of drying blood, onto the back of Tim's computer chair. He wondered if he should toss it in the garbage or leave it in the soiled laundry for Alfred to discover. However, raising the entire Batclan, Jason assumed Alfred would be immune to the sight of blood splatter on fabrics, therefore, one more article of crimson stained cloth wouldn’t raise an ounce of suspicion from the Butler.

Jason kicked off his shoes and slid his pants down his legs. Tossing his shirt over to the heap of laundry in the corner, his boxers were the only piece of clothing that remained on his muscular frame.  
He crawled back onto the queen sized bed and pulled the covers up against both of their bodies. He reached his arm out and coaxed the teen to roll into his awaiting wing. Tim obeyed and curled into Jason, letting the older man wrap his arms tightly around him, allowing the warmth of body heat to comfort his mental unease.  
Tim rested his face onto Jason's chest and listened to the soothing beat of his thumping heart. He finally felt peaceful inside his brother's protective embrace.

"What should I do?" Jason sighed as he held onto the kid.  
Tim didn't respond for he didn't have the answer himself.  
"Please help me understand what you need, Tim. I'll do anything for you."  
Tim traced an invisible line with his finger, connecting faint freckles on Jason's chest.  
"Please don't tell Bruce," Tim pleadingly whispered.  
"Why keep this from him?" Jason queried.  
"I don't want him to worry," Tim quickly added. "I don't want him to think it was his fault. I don't want him to think I'm unfit as Robin. I don't want to seem weak... I just want him to keep thinking I'm fine."  
"But you're not fine, Tim," Jason pointed out sullenly.  
Tim didn't have a response at the ready for this blunt statement. It was true; he wasn't doing well.

A moment lapsed between them before Tim's voice broke the silence, "what do you think he'll do?"  
Jason thought of the scenario and how Bruce would likely remedy the situation. "Well, he'll be hurt knowing that you've been this way for so long and didn't feel comfortable enough asking for his help. Then he'll probably try to figure out how to fix the way you're feeling."  
"He's going to take Robin from me," Tim exhaustingly accused with the realization of his future crumbling down into millions of tiny pieces.  
"Tim, we all just want you better." Even though nobody else in the Batfamily had spoken of Tim's state, Jason assumed the rest of the family had their suspicions that something wasn't right with the second youngest.  
Jason also knew Bruce would make Robin hang up his cape while Tim worked on becoming healthy again.  
"But you're the best detective out of all of us," Jason reassured the younger. "B won't allow you to be out of the game forever. Once you're better, he'll welcome you back and proudly have you by his side once again."  
The thought of losing Robin was the last ounce of weight Tim could bear. He jolted his body erect in the bed and slammed his fist against the headboard in sheer frustration, causing Jason to flinch from the sudden outburst.  
Jason leaned on his elbows, giving himself some distance from Tim, whom had hunched forward and was now banging his clenched fists upon his thighs as he screamed every following word:  
"I have lost so much already! My mom! My dad! Steph! Conner! My innocence..." Tim shook his head in a measure to erase the last admission as tears began to flow from his tightly compressed eyes.  
"I can't lose Robin, too! I'll have nothing left!"  
Jason couldn't handle watching Tim pound bruises against his pale thighs. He grabbed his arms and wrenched his little brother flat on his back as he pinned him to the bed with his own body weight.  
Jason's own temper was consuming him while he watched Tim struggle to fight his way out from under his overpowering brute strength.  
"Stop, Tim! Stop!" Jason shouted as Tim feverishly attempted to outmaneuver the hold.  
"Look at you!" Jason furiously hollered, causing Tim to pause in exhaustion. "You've become so weak! You have no strength anymore! If we let you go out as Robin, you could be killed with how weak you've gotten!" Jason allowed a burning tear to escape from his sullen eyes and roll down his cheek where it trickled onto Tim’s tensing throat. "Don't put us in that position!"  
Jason squeezed his eyes shut, allowing more tears to cascade down his face. He choked on with his speech in a softer tone as he struggled for words from his constricting throat, "don't let Bruce go through that again, Tim. Don't make him bury another child."  
Jason couldn't hold back any longer. His own demons had risen and filled his heart with guilt. He leaned down, releasing his grip on Tim's wrists and wrapped his arms around his brother's waist. Tim returned the hug by tangling his spindly arms around Jason's neck and held on as tightly as he could.  
Jason buried his face into the crook of Tim's neck and whispered between sobs, "don't kill yourself! Don't do that to us! You need help, Tim!" His voice caught in his throat and he shuddered a hot breath onto the nape of Tim's sweat slicked neck, causing the boy to reflexively shy away from the tickling sensation.  
"I want help, Jay, but I don't know what to do," Tim whimpered as he clung to the older male.  
Jason felt slight relief wash over him with the words Tim had uttered: 'I want help'.  
He attempted to raise up to look at his brother with admiration, but was halted when he felt Tim squeeze tighter and echo his feelings, "please don't let me go."  
Jason shifted his weight to the side of his brother and pulled the kid to his chest. Tim curled into the warmth as he lost control of the emotional baggage that was spewed forth. He cried painful sobs of fear, doubt, worry, shame, guilt and panic as his brother gripped his lithe body.  
As Jason clutched Tim's small frame, he raised the question that came to his mind during Tim's rant.  
"Tim? What did you mean when you said you 'lost your innocence'?"  
Tim's crying seized in a surprised choke as he realized Jason noticed the slip of his careless tongue.  
When Jason felt the teen's body tense up in his arms, he took to calmly rubbing small circles over Tim’s skeletal back to help ease the tensed muscles and relax him a bit.  
"It's okay, Babybird. Just hold onto me and let it out. I'm here for you. Please tell me what it is."  
Tim closed his eyes, took in a deep, staggered breath and began to speak, allowing the bottled emotions of his secret to spill tenderly from his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Atelophobia is the fear of not being good enough or imperfection. Atelophobia is classified as an anxiety disorder that can affect relationships and makes the afflicted person feel like everything they do is wrong.”


	4. Ballistic Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His voice cracked in his final act of desperation. "Alfred, please!?" His suffering trailed off into simple words no one could hear, "...help..."

**_THREE YEARS AGO_ **

The young teen stumbled into the cold, dark batcave clutching his abdomen. Blood cascaded through his fingers as he pressed his hand against his side, like he was ineffectually going to keep the blood from spilling free. His weakened body faltered with each agonizing step.  
The boy screamed violently, "Alfred!?" He paused listening for footfalls from the butler.  
As he staggered closer towards the staircase leading to Wayne Manor, his breathing became even more labored. Gasping for breath as a sharp pain struck him stiff.  
He padded along the cold, stone floor with bare feet covered in dried blood and grime from Gotham’s filthy streets. Tears escaped his eyes as he winced in pain; baring his teeth while releasing a guttural groan.  
He continued to cry out for a savior to ease his suffering, "Alfred!" His feet grew heavier as his body became weaker; scraping his toenails against the stone with each step like anvils were attached to his legs.  
His voice cracked in his final act of desperation. "Alfred, please!?" His suffering trailed off into simple words no one could hear:  
"...help..."

The boy was startled by the soft voice he heard from behind him in the shadows.  
"Tim?"  
Dick Grayson, clad as Nightwing without the domino mask, unveiled himself from the shadowy cave depths with a look of worry hanging upon his face.  
The young teenager slowly stumbled to face the eldest son, revealing the bloody mess he clutched in his hands, desperately trying to control the bleeding.  
"Oh god!" Dick froze as he stared at the mangled kid before him. A flash of fear crossed his face and his eyes widened in shock when he noticed the crimson blood rushing over the boy's hands.  
Tim hunched over from the sheer pain and tripped over his twisted feet, causing him to lose his balance backwards.  
Ever so fluid in motion, Dick skated across the cave towards Tim's falling body. Sandwiching the kid between his hands, he placed one on his back to support the weight while the other pressed on his chest to stabilize the teen's weary frame.  
Tim regained his footing with the aid of his brother's help. With Dick still kneeling next to him, both males were practically face to face as Tim contorted his body and hunched over in agony.  
"Let me see, Timmy," The older male breathed out heavily.  
Dick grabbed Tim's small hands gently and slowly plucked them away from the wound. He noted the icy cold hands against his warm flesh as he softly squeezed them in a caring gesture. He moved to holding both of his brother's hands with one of his so he could easily lift the blood soaked shirt covering the injury.  
Dick could only see blood sputtering from the small hole in Tim's stomach. A dark bruise had already formed around the wound. Dick couldn't tell how much blood had been lost, but he judged from the amount soaked into the jeans, and his kid brother's blue lips, he had already lost too much.

Tim whimpered as he tried to catch his aching breath, forcing Dick to snap out of his trance like daze. He snatched the kid from where he stood and pulled him in close to his chest in a protective manner. As Dick wrapped his arms around the beatened child's small frame, he could feel his brother vapid body weighing heavier in his arms. Lifelessness was rapidly approaching.

Tim gasped for air between his blue lips, as his eyes rolled back into his head.  
"Timmy, no!" Dick shouted as he repositioned the semi conscious boy onto his knee and tapped his cheek to wake him from his stupor.  
Dick leaned down and pressed his ear to Tim's chest to listen for a heartbeat.   
Very faint.  
Cradling the teen in his arms, Dick placed his hand under Tim's chin and tilted his head back to clear his airway.  
Tim's eyes flitted open a bit as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Staggered gasps gargled out of his throat as he clutched his brother's wrist.  
"ALFRED!" Dick's voice echoed with a boom throughout the cave as panic filled his body.  
"Tim's been shot!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ballistic trauma or gunshot wound (GSW) is a form of physical trauma sustained from the discharge of arms or munitions.”


	5. Forcible Sodomy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred knotted the final stitch and glanced at what Jason was directing his attention towards.  
> "Oh dear!" Alfred gasped a defeated sigh as his heart sank deep into his chest.

Alfred rushed down the steps to witness Dick enveloping Tim's lifeless body. He feared the urgency of the grave situation for the young lad.  
"Get him to the gurney straight away, Master Richard," Alfred commanded, motioning to a side portion of the Cave that mimicked the essence of a hospital room.   
Alfred turned on the overhead operating lights surrounding the work area; the same space used frequently in the past to mend the broken Bat.  
As Alfred pulled on surgical gloves, Dick carefully laid the limp boy onto the clean table.  
"Remove his clothes at once, Master Richard," Alfred ordered.  
While the faithful servant gathered the medical supplies he would need, Dick began to remove Tim's soiled shirt, causing the boy to awaken from his unconscious state. The teen made low groans of agony as he pawed at Dick's dancing hands.  
Dick tossed the shirt aside revealing purple and black flecked skin amongst the river of crimson.

Tim's lip was sliced open with blood drying to his soft chin. As he tried to speak in his delirium, blood sputtered with every aching sound that escaped his mouth.  
A bruised welt on his cheekbone had grown substantially since his arrival back to the cave.  
As Dick reached to undo Tim's saturated jeans, the boy writhed from the discomfort of having someone touching him. He grabbed Dick's wrist and tried to prevent him from helping. But the older male proved much stronger than the exhausted child and easily overpowered him with little force of effort.  
Alfred folded up a towel and laid it across Tim's lower half as Dick yanked the jeans down, freeing the young teen's thin legs.  
"Master Richard, would you please restrain our lad's arms for me," Alfred requested.

Dick pulled a stool over to sit on as he moved to Tim's head, carefully pulling the teen up the table so he could rest his head on his shoulder.  
The child's arms were quickly subdued by his older brother's embrace in a bear hug. Dick held Tim's small wrists, feeling the icy death fingers against his warm palms.  
Tim buried his face in the crook of his brother's neck as he winced in pain. He could smell the aroma of sweat and ivory soap filling his lungs. Dick breathed in the acrid scent of iron ladened blood.

Alfred surveyed the entrance site of the wound. Tim's tiny body flinched painful jolts of electricity everytime the butler pressed a soft touch against his skin.  
"The bullet appears to be lodged in his abdomen," Alfred commentated. "I'll have to remove it to prevent infection."  
Tim's breathing became more heavily labored as Alfred laid his hand on his tender stomach. The slightest amount of pressure was sending agonizing pain throughout his bludgeoned body.  
Tim grabbed the sleeve of Dick's forearm and grimaced a whimper. Dick held his brother tighter and pressed a comforting kiss to his cheek.  
Alfred inserted an IV into Tim's arm and administered a dose of muscle relaxers and sedatives. He then rubbed iodine around the entrance of the wound. Tim cried a shriek of pain and tried to wriggle free of Dick's grasp.

"My deepest apologies, my dear boy," Alfred apologetically said before turning his attention to the older male. "You must keep him steady, Master Richard. We cannot risk further injury."  
Dick confirmed Alfred's request with a nod and flexed his biceps to still the struggling boy in a submissive power hold.

Alfred inserted the forceps into the open cavity causing Tim to scream out in excruciating pain. Tears fell profusely from the corners of his clenched eyes all the while he cried out in intolerable agony.  
"Please! Stop!" Tim bellowed while sobbing.

As Tim continued to struggle, Alfred could feel the forceps clip the tiny metal shard. The boy kicked his legs fiercely in an attempt to rid himself of the terrible pain he was experiencing.  
Alfred quickly removed the forceps and tried to hold Tim still. He placed a weary hand on the boy's stained face. "Dear child, you must try to remain calm and let me help you."  
Tim, with tears flowing and still fighting against Dick's brute strength, cried out, "No! It hurts too much! Please?! Just please stop! I can't take it anymore!" His words trailed off as he choked and gasped under his tears.  
"Can't you give him something for the pain, Alfred?" Dick interjected.  
"Already administered, Master Richard," Alfred replied. "Anymore and we risk an overdose."  
Alfred turned his focus back to his young son. "Concentrate on Master Richard, dear boy. The sedative should take over soon. I will try to hurry."

Just then, Jason Todd wandered into the Batcave and removed his helmet. He could see Alfred and Dick surrounding his younger brother and blood pooling at their feet below the illuminated table.  
As Jason stepped closer, Tim kicked his legs furiously again, exposing his bruised and bloodied thighs from under the askewed towel. He sensed the worst.  
Jason crept up beside Alfred and spoke softly in worry, "Alfred?"  
"Ah, good, Master Jason," Alfred spoke without looking up. "Would you please assist me with Master Timothy's injuries?"  
Jason nodded and placed the towel back over Tim's battered lower half. He gently pressed his gloved hands on the small teen's bruised legs, but did not effectively restrain him for fear of hurting him further. He realized the strength Tim had in his lithe body when Alfred attempted to insert the forceps once again, and the kid kicked his limbs wildly out from under his slight grip.  
Jason quickly collected Tim's flailing legs and pinned them down to the table with more force.  
Tim tossed his head back onto Dick's shoulder and screamed out in terrible agony, nearly deafening his eldest brother with his blood curdling shriek.

Jason turned his gaze away from the blood gushing profusely from the open wound.  
As Alfred pulled the forceps out, a shard of metal shrouded in crimson hung at the end. He dropped the bullet into a metal pan with a clang.  
"There, there, my dear child," Alfred applauded while placing a congratulatory hand on Tim's forehead. "The hard part is over now."  
Tim returned to a shaken whimper and slowed his labored breathing to a shudder as sobs caught in his throat.  
Dick turned his head towards his brother and delivered a kiss on his cheek lovingly. He was relieved the difficult part was now over; or so he thought.

"It's all done," Dick whispered with his face pressed against Tim's sweat soaked skin. "You did great, Babybird. I'm so proud of you." He rubbed his brother's tightly clenched fists in a congratulatory manner.  
Tim had stopped fighting the men trying to help him and rested the weight of his head onto Dick's masculine shoulder in exhaustion.  
Jason rested his hands on Tim's knees, surveying the brutal scene; his mind racing to conclusions on how his little brother came to having so many abrasions decorating his delicate flesh. A conundrum far more complex since Jason could see the street clothes strewn across the floor instead of a tattered Robin suit. Leading to the only possibility that Tim had been harmed personally.

"It doesn't appear the bullet has hit any vital organs, so I can begin suturing the wound now," Alfred spoke professionally.  
The butler sanitized the wound with alcohol and began threading the needle through his son's skin.  
Jason leaned in towards Alfred and whispered a hot breath against his ear, "Alfred, did you see this?"  
Jason lifted the wrapped towel ever so slightly as not to alarm his younger brother. He pinched the soft flesh of Tim's thigh and parted his legs to expose the extent of the damage done.  
Alfred knotted the final stitch and glanced at what Jason was directing his attention towards.  
"Oh dear!" Alfred gasped a defeated sigh as his heart sank deep into his chest.  
He removed the blood stained surgical gloves and pressed a bare hand on Jason's to lower the microfiber back down. He stared into Jason's eyes expressing all his sorrows on his face.  
Alfred turned back to Tim's face, whom was very still from the muscle relaxers that had finally taken effect.  
He stroked the raven hair, caressed down his neck, and ended on his shoulder as he spoke soothing words, "I'll return to finish cleaning you up, my dear boy. I just have to place a phone call real quick. Nothing to alarm you."  
With Alfred taking his leave, Jason released his grip from Tim's frail body and moved to calmly stroking the boy's arm. Tim was nearly asleep by that point.

Dick and Jason sat in silence as they waited for Alfred's return.  
After time crept slowly by for the men, Alfred gracefully descended the cave steps with Dr. Leslie Thompkins patiently trailing behind him. He carried a bowl of warm water and a sponge to rid the dried blood from Timothy's disheveled body.

As both adults approached the table, Dick looked at them with confusion. Alfred had always been able to mend the entire Batfamily with little help from a medical doctor.  
Tim slowly stirred awake when Leslie placed a cold, gentle hand on his arm. He looked up at her in bewilderment.  
"Hello, Timothy," the doctor began.  
Leslie was cut off when Tim puzzled a cry, "what's she doing here?"  
"I called her, young master," Alfred mentioned.  
"Tim, I came here to help you," Leslie stated. "Can you explain what happened to you?"  
Tim fixed his eyes up to the ceiling feeling betrayed by his butler. He pursed his lips in anger, trying to hold in his emotions.  
Noticing the uneasiness in the young teen, Leslie continued, "it's okay, honey. I'm here to help you get better."  
A tear fell from Tim's crystal blue eyes and rolled down his cheek. He insisted on staying silent, even though he was dying to blurt everything out on the inside.  
Alfred leaned closer and whispered to the youth, "don't be afraid, young master. She's a friend and wishes to help you. I will take the other masters up to the den to give you peace during the exam."  
Tim's wide eyes screamed silent, fearful cries as he snatched the father figure by his arm and pleaded, "please don't leave me alone!"  
"It'll be just fine," Alfred coaxed. He gently collected Tim's hands, plucking them from the grip he had on his tweed suit, and pressed them into his chest, pushing the boy to lay back onto the table.  
Still unsure of the reason Leslie was present in the Batcave, Dick interjected, "I'll stay with him, Alfred."  
Alfred nodded in acknowledgement and looked back to Tim before asking, "is it alright if Master Richard stays by your side?"  
Tim gave a quick nod, still not wanting to have Leslie poking and prodding him, but having his brother there to comfort him was better than nothing.  
"Alright," Alfred confirmed. He placed an aged hand on Dick's back with a slight pat of encouragement and strength for the next few moments ahead of them. He was proud to have raised such an upstanding individual able to look after the family when he was not able to himself.  
The faithful butler laid an arm on Jason's shoulder and steered him towards the cave steps.  
"Come, Master Jason. Let's get ourselves cleaned up," Alfred inclined to the younger male.  
Before the two men reached the steps, Leslie proceeded to work.  
"Okay, sweetheart. Just lay still and this will be over soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Forcible sodomy is the sexual interaction involving the genitals of one person and the anus or mouth of another, against one's will, regardless of gender.”


	6. Rape Trauma Syndrome (RTS)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want you to understand that even though you're capable of great strengths, I'm here for you too. Like you were there for B, I'll be right by your side every step of the way. You can lean on me when it's too much for you to handle by yourself. I'll  
> never abandon you because you would never abandon us."

"I need you to roll onto your side, please," Dr. Leslie Thompson coaxed.

Tim slowly rolled to his side feeling the aches in his stiff muscles. Dick helped him get into position, then dragged the stool across the floor so he could reposition himself and sit in front of Tim's face.

Leslie lifted the towel, unfolding it to it's full length and flashing Tim's bruised thighs to Dick. She laid it on the young teen's hip to keep him decent, but left the back open for the exam.  
"Are you ready, Timothy?" Leslie queued  
Tim's face had fear wash over it. The cruel truth dancing in his mind as he relinquished the horrific ordeal.

Dick watched his baby brother's eyes widen in panic. He reached out and grasped Tim's hand in support. He saw the knuckles turn white as the teen squeezed his savior's hand tightly.

Tim couldn't help let a gasp of pain escape from his chapped lips once Leslie began the exam. A flood of emotions filled his tainted mind: pain, anger, embarrassment, shame, hurt.... Tears began to rush out and fall upon the arm he was laying on as a makeshift pillow.  
"It's gonna be okay," Dick whispered. "You're my strong Babybird, right?"

Tim was destroyed by the hurtful thoughts in his mind. He clasped his eyes shut and turned his face down to cover his shame with his bare arm. His mouth gaped open with spit strings glistening from his teeth as he tried to forcefully contain his sobs in the quietest squeal; the veins bulging in his neck from the strain.

Leslie momentarily broke the tension in the air with her commentary, "there's a tear I will have to suture, Tim. You'll feel more discomfort, but it'll be over soon."   
She was sorely mistaken.  
"Ow!" Tim gasped as the needle pierced his inflamed skin. His painful cries struck Dick through the heart. His grip tightened to its full extent on his older brother's fist.

Dick stroked the teen's raven hair and leaned his face mere inches from his brother's. He rested his chin on their entwined hands and attempted to soothe Tim's anguish with good memories.  
"Do you remember that night we went out to train together?" Dick began.  
Tim tried to search his clouded mind, drifting back and forth between past and present occurrences, coming up short with all the times they had spent together.  
Dick continued, "we were blindfolded while train hopping when we got jumped by those unfortunate thugs."  
Tim pictured the event in his mind, despite the current pain he was struggling with.  
"You kept telling me you were doubting yourself because you weren't physically fit like I was. But you found your strength and took out those thugs like you had been practicing those blindfolded maneuvers your whole life."  
Tim quieted his crying to listen to his older brother's tale.  
"I didn't tell you this at the time, but I raised my blindfold when I sensed the thugs there. I was afraid you'd get injured and then I'd have to face B," Dick slipped in a joke in an effort to comfort his baby brother.  
Dick rubbed Tim's white knuckles with his thumb and continued, "you proved you were more capable than I was; that you were even more brave than I had been.  
"You've always been the closest to B. I mean, you were the only one to figure out his identity. You train relentlessly and have a genius level intelligence no one can be taught.  
"B got through his dark times after Jason's death because you were his strength by his side. I just-" Dick stuttered on his sentence, becoming more emotional.  
"I want you to understand that even though you're capable of great strengths, I'm here for you too. Like you were there for B, I'll be right by your side every step of the way. You can lean on me when it's too much for you to handle by yourself. I'll  
never abandon you because you would never abandon us."  
Dick lifted their balled fists and kissed the back of Tim's hand, sealing his promise to his brother.

Leslie finished her procedure, stood up and pulled the towel to cover Tim's back.  
"Alright, I'm all finished," she said as she removed her gloves.  
Dick raised from his seat, releasing his brother's hand. He shook Leslie's hand and thanked her for her services.  
"I shall have the test results soon. I advise bed rest for the time being to let his wounds heal properly."  
"Right. Thank you again, Leslie," Dick voiced a sigh of relief.  
"Take care of him, Dick," Leslie said placing a caring hand on his broad shoulder. "He really needs his family right now."  
Dick bit his lip and nodded, struggling to keep his composure in front of the good doctor.  
"I'll see myself out,” Leslie said, packing up her things and relieving the boys of her presence.

Dick grabbed the sponge from the lukewarm water and squeezed out the excess fluid. He took his seat again and began wiping away the stains on Tim's baby soft skin. He wished he could cleanse his brother's mind as well, but for now, he just took to wiping away the physical memories on his flesh as the teen's exhausted consciousness withered away to dreamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Rape trauma syndrome (RTS) is the psychological trauma experienced by a rape victim that includes disruptions to normal physical, emotional, cognitive, and interpersonal behavior.“


	7. Prevarication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's okay, Tim. I can't help you if you don't tell me."  
> Tim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand but refused to answer the question.  
> "Do you want me to send Dick out of the cave so we can talk in private?"  
> Tim shook his head no.  
> "Is it too hard for you to say what happened?"  
> Tim nodded.   
> Bruce hit the nail on the head with his assumption that Tim was either ashamed or embarrassed to admit aloud what he had endured.

Dick Grayson dipped the sponge into the lukewarm water, letting it soak up the warmth. He rang out the excess moisture and glided it softly across Tim's cheek. He could hear his brother's quiet snores as he washed his flesh clean of physical memories.  
The sponge soaked up dirt, blood, and tears as it swept across the soft skin. Bruises still dusted the flesh of the sleeping child.

Dick watched Tim's eyelids flit slightly wondering if he was having recurring nightmares or making an escape into a peaceful dreamland.  
A tear escaped from Dick's eyes as he choked to hold in a sob. He couldn't imagine what his little brother had gone through, and the fact that he wasn't there to protect him left an ominous cloud of guilt looming over his head. Dread and despair filled his frenzied mind.

Dick released the sponge into the bowl of water and placed his hands over his eyes, darkening the scenery around him. He doubled over and let the emotions flow from his mind. Tears cascaded between his fingers and down his arms, finding a place of rest on his knees where his elbows sat.  
As Dick cried for his brother, he questioned reality with racing thoughts:

What happens next?

What does Tim need?

Who did this?

Why did this happen?

Who will tell Bruce?

With thoughts colliding into each other in a clustered haze, he decided the next step would amount to just being there for his little brother. Whatever Tim desired, Dick would be the crutch to get him through it.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as a pressure headache approached. He stared at Tim peacefully sleeping on the table. His facial expression was soft, conflicting with the contusions and abrasions decorating his skin.

Dick leaned in, gliding his fingers through Tim's sweat soaked raven hair. Tears continued to slip down his rosy cheekbones with the pain he was feeling for this beaten child.

The eldest son felt a heavy hand grasp his shoulder, forcing his body to tense from the surprise of it's presence. He quickly recognized this grip after feeling it's comfort for so many times over the years.  
He turned his head and looked up at the man in possession of the calloused hand. He knew everything would be okay now that HE had arrived.

Dressed in casual clothing, Bruce Wayne gave a weary smile to his tired eldest son. He rubbed his hand across Dick's shoulder and lightly squeezed the base of his neck as he tilted his head to allow his son to see his face amongst the shadows of the cave.

Dick looked up in relief with the common assumption Bruce could fix anything.  
"Bruce," Dick sullenly exhaled as he leapt from his seat. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck as the thoughts and emotions filled his mind and flowed from his eyes.

Bruce wrapped his strong arms around Dick's waist and rested his chin on his son's shoulder. He listened to Dick's muffled cries into his shoulder while he traced the silhouette of his third son asleep on the table. The sight would have been unbearable for any father to witness his son bruised, naked, and bloodied with blood pooled, both on the table, and creating a waterfall onto the floor below, but Bruce had numbed himself after viewing all of his sons in the same state over the years of vigilante crime fighting.

"It's okay, son," Bruce spoke trying to relax the unsteady young man in his arms. He rubbed his hand up and down Dick's spine waiting for him to find the comfort he needed.  
"Bruce..." Dick began, but cut off when he sniffed and worked to regain his bearings.  
"Yes?" Bruce coaxed, noticing Dick was having a hard time getting the words out.  
"It's okay, Dick. I've got us." He listened to Dick release a long exhale, managing to find his focus.  
"Bruce. Tim was raped!" He hiccuped the last word, letting it ring in their ears and echo throughout the cave.

The words alone struck Bruce cold. He wasn't used to the sensations arising within him. His mouth dried out, his muscles stiffened, his mind clouded with judgement. He could feel his heart beating faster, and somehow, heavier.

Being the backbone of the family, even though Alfred holds this title better, Bruce cleared his mind and regained his focus. Not only Tim, but Dick needed him as well.

He squeezed his son tighter allowing the warmth from his palms to soak through the fabric of his suit and onto the skin of Dick's solid back.  
"We'll get through this, Dick," Bruce hesitated.

The two men stayed in an embrace, only parting when they heard a groggy voice come from behind.

"Dad?"

Dick turned towards the sound, allowing Bruce a clear view of his boy. He could see the bloodshot eyes peering back at him.

"Dad?" Tim moaned again louder as he pressed his hands against the table to force himself in a seated position. His face contorted as tears filled his baby blue eyes to the brim.

Bruce quickly skated over to his injured son.  
"My boy!" Bruce exclaimed as he swept his arms around Tim, collecting every bit of his son in his wingspan. He sat on the table and pulled Tim onto his lap.

"Dad!" Tim muffled a cry as he pressed his face against his savior's chest. Bruce didn't even take note of the blood staining his own clothing as he guarded his child in his embrace.  
Dick watched Bruce's face soften once his injured boy was safely in his arms. He listened to Tim's wails becoming muffled while their dad squeezed him tightly.

Bruce shifted the towel to cover his naked son after it slid down when Tim curled into himself. He noticed the bruising upon his son's thighs as well as the welts and... Burns?  
He placed his hand on the back of Tim's head, allowing the boy's hair to curl around his fingers. He gently massaged the top of his neck and waited for as long as Tim needed to cry.  
Dick traipsed closer, reaching down and stroking Tim's thin arm that was clinging around Bruce's neck.

Tim's crying quieted after a moment, allowing Bruce the chance to speak. He leaned his head close to Tim's ear and whispered, creating hot breath that tickled Tim's sensitive skin.

"Tim, are you in any pain?"   
Bruce first wanted to make sure the drugs were enough to aid his body into healing, but he also wanted to break the ice and lead into questions regarding his boy’s injuries.  
Tim slowly shook his head. 

Bruce knew his boys were all stubborn when trying to be brave in front of him and wouldn't admit if they were in pain, but he trusted his son's judgement at the moment.  
"What are your injuries?"   
Bruce held up a finger to Dick, cutting him off before he had a chance to answer for his brother. He was trying to get Tim to open up about the situation.  
Tim continued with his barely audible answer.  
"Shot."  
"Can I see?" Bruce asked.  
Tim angled his body away from Bruce and pointed at the sutured injury hidden under a sterile cloth taped to his tan skin.  
Tim quickly covered the injury with his hand and leaned back into his father's warmth.  
"What else, son?"   
Bruce doubted Tim was awake enough earlier to hear that Dick had already told him.  
Tim became still and sniffled while releasing hot breaths through his teeth.  
"It's okay, Tim. I can't help you if you don't tell me."  
Tim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand but refused to answer the question.  
"Do you want me to send Dick out of the cave so we can talk in private?"  
Tim shook his head no.  
"Is it too hard for you to say what happened?"  
Tim nodded.   
Bruce hit the nail on the head with his assumption that Tim was either ashamed or embarrassed to admit aloud what he had endured.   
He decided to continue his questioning so Tim could respond with silent 'yes' or 'no' answers, making it so his son didn't have to stumble on forcing the painful truth through his lips, yet.

"Were you victimized sexually, Tim?"

A sudden tension of muscular rigidity happened with the spoken words of being traumatically abused.  
Bruce felt Tim's tiny body go lax in his arms as if he had just been defeated after a slight pause with deep, wondering thought.  
He would have missed the small nod against his chest if he hadn't been watching for the response.  
"Are you able to tell me who it was?"  
Tim hesitated. He swiped his face back and forth for a 'no'.

Bruce sighed and thought for a moment. Even though he wanted answers immediately so he could find the perpetrator that hurt his child, he decided not to pressure Tim for any more answers while it was late. He could do research while allowing Tim a chance to rest upstairs in his bed and recover some.  
"Do you want to tell me in the morning after you've rested?"  
Tim shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to tell Bruce everything, he really did. So why couldn't he? Who was he protecting by staying silent?

"Okay," Bruce loosened his grip while saying, "I'll call for Alfred so he can help you wash up and get you into your bed."  
"I can do it, Bruce," Dick interjected.  
Bruce leaned back creating space between him and Tim. He placed a curled finger under Tim's chin and tilted his face upwards.  
"Is it okay if Dick helps you get clean?" Bruce asked as he watched Dick carefully remove the IV from Tim's arm.  
Tim nodded as he placed his balled fists back into his lap. He attempted to lower his gaze to avoid Bruce's eye contact out of embarrassment.

"Okay,” Bruce said as he turned to look at Dick. "Help him shower, but don't give him a bath. We can't let his injuries get submerged under water. And replace the bandage with a dry one afterwards."  
Dick nodded in acknowledgement and moved an arm under Tim's legs and one behind his back. Bruce helped to hoist Tim into his brother's awaiting arms, causing the towel to fall back onto the table. Choosing to leave the crimson stained towel, Bruce removed his jacket and wrapped it around Tim's naked body instead. The residual heat sent chills all along Tim's goose flesh skin.

"Thank you, Dick," Bruce said while placing a caring hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "If you need anything, the entire family is in the manor tonight. I'll be down here working."  
Dick nodded again and then turned to take his brother upstairs out of the cave.

Bruce was left standing alone in front of the bloody table that was now void of his beloved child. He sat down on the chair that Dick had been using throughout the events of the night. He placed his head in his hands and lurched forward, letting the weight of his family's burdens fall upon his shoulders.  
He could handle anything in Gotham City, but when it came to his birds, he HAD to try harder to keep them protected from the predators masquerading around this city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Prevarication is when someone tells a lie, especially in a sneaky way. While the noun prevarication is mostly just a fancy way to say "lie," it can also mean skirting around the truth, being vague about the truth, or even delaying giving someone an answer, especially to avoid telling them the whole truth.“


	8. Toxic Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He took the washcloth that still had soap residue clinging to it’s fibers and began washing Tim’s back again. He lightened the pressure from his hand as he rubbed the cloth lightly between Tim’s legs, noticing his brother’s grip tighten while he still clung against his waist. The purple hued bruised skin flecked brazenly in contrast to his ivory toned flesh, giving a sickening effect as his thighs were softly washed.

Dick reached out, flipping the light switch to illuminate the immaculate space of Tim's personal bathroom. For being a young teenager, Tim kept his room tidy and organized to impeccable standards; a trait dick found commendable in the young lad.

"Okay, Tim. Can you get your footing?" Dick asked as he released the youth's legs and let them dangle centimeters above the tile floor, waiting for his brother to gain his balance on his own.

The jacket Bruce had wrapped around his child was barely covering now as Tim stood by himself, arms crossing over his chest.  
Dick took the jacket and hung it on the hook secured to the back of the door.  
"I may as well get a shower as well, right Babybird?" Dick rhetorically asked as he peeled his Nightwing costume off, feeling the cool air bite at his clammy skin. He watched Tim stand still with his arms folded across himself in a failed attempt to hide his body and, also, stay warm; his eyes never raising from the floor.  
"You ready?" Dick asked as he placed a hand on Tim's bare shoulder.  
Tim nodded while slowly creeping towards the shower stall, staggering briefly from the effects of the drugs in his system Alfred had administered earlier.

The shower was large and would easily cater to the boys' needs without causing them to bump into each other during the cleaning process.  
It wasn't uncommon for the birds to shower together in the facility located down in the cave after hours of patrolling, so neither thought this was out of the ordinary.   
Tim walked in first and moved to the back of the stall, out of reach of the shower stream. Dick stepped in second and turned the knob to get the water going. He was hit with the bitter cold bite of the water and understood why Tim chose to hide in the back.   
Smart kid, he smirked.

Dick waited for the water temperature to become warm and then dipped his head under the stream. Wiping water from his eyes, he reached out and waved a hand, beckoning for his brother to come closer to him.  
Tim tiptoed close and began to submerge himself under the beads of water. He quickly recoiled from the sting on his skin when the needle like feel of the water jets scattered across his broken flesh.  
"Here," Dick said after noticing the harsh look on Tim's face. He moved under the shower head to block the stream with his back. He turned Tim to face the back of the shower and pulled him against his chest, tilting the teen's head back and brushing the water that cascaded down his broad chest onto his brother's hair.

Dick reached for the shampoo bottle and squirted a dollop in his palm. He swiped half onto his hair and then massaged the rest onto his brother's.  
Once Tim's head was covered in small bubbles, Dick massaged the shampoo into his own hair.   
After quickly rinsing, he readjusted the temperature and placed his hands on his brother's shoulders.  
"You ready?" Dick asked.  
Tim continued his stare down but moved back until he was pressed against Dick's chest. Again, Dick tilted Tim's head back and rinsed the bubbles from his hair. He looked at the length and thought Tim could use a hair trim since his bangs were becoming long and hiding his blue eyes more.

As Dick ran his hands through Tim's long hair, making sure to get out all the excess shampoo, he watched Tim's sullen face relax. His eyes were closed but he could see the tension flee every time he placed his hands on Tim's body.

Dick reached for the washcloth and splashed it with body wash. He did a quick once over on himself knowing the washcloth would be stained after cleaning the grime from Tim.  
The older male rinsed the cloth, added fresh soap to it and began carefully washing the dried blood on Tim's face, being gentle enough not to break open any of the small cuts that had dried closed.   
His brother's eyes seemed lifeless; a cause of concern for Dick as he watched them glaze over in a blank stare.  
Tim was always a lively, energetic child, so to see him in this sullen state worried Dick.

Dick glided the cloth down Tim's neck and uncovered an odd bruise above the boy's clavicle. Upon further prodding dick realized the long bruise was actually a burn mark.  
"What happened to you?" Dick asked, quietly voicing the pain he felt for his brother with the bemused question; lightly touching the skin next to the marked flesh.  
Tim looked up with his wide blue eyes. "Please, don't make me say it," he pleaded with a mask of fear wash over his face.  
"Oh Tim," Dick exclaimed as he reached out to hug the teenager.  
Tim reciprocated by wrapping his arms tightly around Dick's waist and burying his face in his shoulder.  
"I just want to forget," Tim quietly squeaked with a shaky voice.  
"I know buddy. I know." Dick rubbed Tim's back with the washcloth.   
He slowly pulled back so he could finish washing Tim's body clean. He was a little surprised not to find any tears filling Tim's baby blue eyes, after hearing the quake in his voice.  
Dick washed the teen's backside carefully so as not to aggravate the traumatized skin. He could sense Tim's discomfort when he noticed the boy's tight, white knuckled grip on the shelf holding the shower supplies.  
“Does this hurt?” Dick asked while pressing gently on his brother’s skin in an attempt to wipe the rest of the dried blood.  
Tim nodded slowly while contorting his face as he suppressed his sobs from escaping.  
“Would you feel more comfortable doing it?” Dick asked while holding the washcloth out to see if Tim would accept the task himself.  
Without looking up from the point his eyes had fixated on, Tim spoke with an ache in his throat, “I don’t know what to do.”  
Dick looked quizzically at his brother, “you don’t know how to wash around your injuries?”  
The only thing Dick wanted at this point was to help Tim as much as possible.  
“Um,” Tim hesitated as he felt tears burning within his sinus, “I’ve never felt pain like this before, Dick.”  
Dick’s heart felt as if it was being ripped from his chest. He placed his open palm softly against Tim’s cheek and watched his little brother reach up to grip his hand tightly, pressing his face furtively against his calloused skin.  
“Tim, I couldn’t even imagine how you are feeling right now. I am so sorry you have to go through this, and I wish I knew what to do for you. I’m here for you no matter what you need. All you have to do is just speak to me and I’ll listen to everything.”  
Dick watched Tim’s eyes wince from emotional pain while listening to his comforting words.  
“Why do I feel so ashamed?” Tim asked as his voice broke with an immediate gasp of breath which resulted in tears.  
“Come here,” Dick said as he opened his arms to coax Tim into the safety of his wingspan.   
“Tim,” Dick began while resting his cheek on the top of his brother’s head, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? Whomever did that to you is a sick bastard and doesn’t deserve to breathe fresh air. This wasn’t your fault in anyway! I don’t know what to say that will change your mind right now, but there is absolutely nothing for you to be ashamed about. You went through a terrible trauma that no one deserves to ever experience. This is not your fault, okay?”  
Dick placed his hands lovingly on Tim’s cheeks and angled his face so he was staring into his brother’s eyes, “we loved you the same yesterday as we will tomorrow. This changes nothing about the way we see you as a person. Please don’t be ashamed of anything, because you did nothing wrong!”

“I hate feeling so uncomfortable just living right now!” Tim broke down his emotional turmoil into one jarring statement.  
“Oh God, Tim!” Dick exclaimed with worry as he pulled his brother tightly against his chest to hold him with all of his strength.  
“I can’t take hearing you say such words!”   
Tim could tell from the way Dick’s voice shook that he was feeling strong emotions that were threatening to release in tears. He regretted speaking his truths after witnessing the pain he was causing his eldest brother.  
“I’m sorry,” Tim whispered softly.  
“No,” Dick quickly interjected, “please don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just very sad that you had to go through something so horrific and you weren’t protected. It’s okay. Okay?”  
Tim allowed his eyes to drop as the amounting guilt rushed into his mind.  
“Let’s finish up before Alfred comes looking for our pruny bodies, okay,” Dick said in a futile attempt to release the tension surrounding them.  
He took the washcloth that still had soap residue clinging to it’s fibers and began washing Tim’s back again. He lightened the pressure from his hand as he rubbed the cloth lightly between Tim’s legs, noticing his brother’s grip tighten while he still clung against his waist. The purple hued bruised skin flecked brazenly in contrast to his ivory toned flesh, giving a sickening effect as his thighs were softly washed.

Both brothers rinsed the soap residue from their bodies and then Dick turned the shower off.  
He stepped out of the shower, letting the steam escape and wrapped a towel around his waist. He grab a second towel and held it open for Tim to use.  
As Tim slowly crept forward out of the shower stall, Dick placed the towel on Tim's head and aggressively rubbed it over his hair. He draped it over Tim's head before long and let it dangle around the boy's body, nearly covering his entire small frame from the puffy terrycloth.

Dick grabbed a hairbrush and reached out for Tim.  
"Come on," he coaxed as he took Tim's hand into his. He flipped off the light and walked out of the bathroom with Tim trailing behind.

The two brothers found Jason in the bedroom seated upon Tim's bed with a change of clothes for both of them by his side.  
Jasons eyes fell to his younger brother and he forced a bashful smile towards him.  
"Hey Babybird," Jason cooed. He stretched out a hand and Tim immediately padded across the floor towards him. He always felt protected when Jason was around, even though he was the only one that ever tried to kill him in the past.

As Dick handed Jason the hairbrush, Jason pulled Tim down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed in between his spread legs, facing away from him. He did a quick, rough tussle of the towel over his damp locks and then released the towel so it laid bunched at Tim's waist. It was then with all the blood washed away, Jason could see every inch of discolored skin on Tim's body.

Jason raked the brush through Tim's damp hair while dick grabbed the change of clothes Jason brought for him and proceeded to change.  
"Thanks," Dick said as he tied the drawstring to his lounge pants.  
"You're welcome," Jason replied while still focusing on brushing Tim's hair.  
Jason continued speaking after a moment of silence, "Bruce wanted to see you in the cave before you went to bed, Dickybird."  
Dick nodded in confirmation. "What are you gonna do tonight?" He asked, curious if Jason planned to mindlessly roam Gotham as the Red Hood in search of Tim's attacker.  
Jason wrapped his arms around his little brother, letting his chin find rest in the crook of Tim's neck.  
"I'm gonna stay here for the night with my Babybird."  
Tim reached a hand up and held onto Jason's forearm, finding peace and safety in his brother's warm arms. He closed his eyes wishing he could have this protective feeling forever.  
"Okay," Dick said in acknowledgment. "I'll talk to Bruce and be back up." Dick trusted Tim was, literally, in good hands with Jason and knew he would take care of him in his absence.

Dick swiped a hand through Tim's freshly brushed hair, giving a playful tussle before exiting the bedroom.  
Jason released his arms, gave a loving pat to Tim's chest, and reached for the clothes he had laid out. He grabbed the boxers first while Tim stood up and turned to face him.  
Placing his hands on Jason's shoulders, Tim lifted one foot at a time to help get himself dressed. But after the boxers were on, Tim didn't want any more fabric touching his sore body. He moved past Jason and began crawling onto the oversized bed.  
"You don't want anything else," Jason asked while aiding Tim up to the pillows.  
"No. I just want to sleep," Tim replied drowsily.

Jason pulled the comforter down and waited for Tim to get his spindly limbs under before pulling it over the teen's body.  
"Are you sleeping in here with me?" Tim asked, lightly holding onto Jason's wrist.  
"Do you want me to?" Jason inquired.  
Tim nodded with half lidded eyes.  
"Okay," Jason confirmed. He removed his leather jacket exposing his red shirt underneath and kicked his shoes off. He tossed everything in the corner of the room in a heap.  
"Move over," Jason playfully said as he gave Tim a friendly shove, careful not to hurt his brother’s bruised body.  
He crawled under the covers and laid on his folded hands that rested behind his head, exhaling a long sigh of exhaustion.  
Jason stared at the ceiling knowing sleep would elude him due to the dancing thoughts in his wandering mind.

He thought of the faceless predator.

He thought of him doing unspeakable things to Tim.

He thought of him laughing smugly.

He thought of murdering him.

He thought of the pain Tim had to endure alone.

Then Jason felt Tim's wet hair on his arm, snapping his mind back to the reality of the present. The teen had rolled over to rest his head on his brother's arm; to feel his warmth.  
All of the anger fled Jason's mind for the moment. He rolled towards the small boy, enveloping him in his arms. The teen was swallowed up in Jason's warm embrace.  
Sleep quickly came to them both as they clung to each other tightly for reassurance of the others' presence.

Dick later returned to the dark room, finding both his brothers calmly sleeping. He leaned his weary frame on the wooden door and decided not to enter. He didn't want to wake either of them after the troublesome night the family had endured.

He found peace watching the two rest easy when he felt a hand gently rub his back.  
Dick twirled to see Alfred standing behind him. The old man's eyes held pain Dick wasn't sure he could understand. As a military medic, Alfred knew far more of the extent of Tim's injuries than anyone.

"Alfred," Dick choked quietly. He reached out for a hug from his faithful butler.  
Alfred tightly held his son. He had to be strong for the members in the household but he felt like falling apart himself. The baby of the family had been through a traumatic event no one in the family had ever experienced.  
It would be a matter of days before Leslie would call with information from the physical exam. Unfortunately, it would take a lot longer for the emotional damage to heal within the young boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When toxic shame lingers without resolution, the desire to hide from it or escape from yourself can lead to potentially harmful behaviors like substance misuse or self-harm.”


	9. Thermal Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce stopped for a second in the doorway, turning his head back in Alfred's direction.  
> As bruce loosened his necktie, his voice became more gravelly and his darkness billowed forth, "The Batman is going to get to the bottom of this."

Alfred walked into the study where he found Bruce Wayne seated in his chair, reading a newspaper.  
"Master Wayne," Alfred voiced, "Dr. Thompkins is on the telephone."  
"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said as he hoisted himself out of his lounger and hurried across the study to his desk.

Alfred crossed the room and began mimicking the act of dusting the lamp on the side table carelessly. He was more concerned about the results for Tim's exam than keeping the place tidy.

"Hello, Leslie," Bruce answered in a friendly tone, placing the receiver to his ear.  
Alfred couldn't make out the muffled sounds of Leslie's voice through the phone, so he focused on Bruce's words.  
"Dimethyl Ether?" Bruce repeated into the phone, pleasantries quickly being washed away. "Like the ingredient used in Freon?"  
Bruce's puzzled look was erased with whatever Leslie had said on the other end. It elaborately changed to despair.  
"I see."  
Alfred watched Bruce listen intently to the doctor. He saw him nod a few times, and end with wiping beads of sweat from his brow.  
"So there was an object used instead," Bruce concluded.  
Alfred was lost in thought after receiving only half of the conversation.

_What object?_

_What was it used for?_

_What about the Freon?_

"How long do you think?" Bruce asked.  
Alfred halted his performance of cleaning the study and, instead, crept closer to Bruce. He cradled the duster in his hands waiting for the moment Bruce was finished so he could have his many questions answered.

"I understand," Bruce exhaled, flashing a concerned, hurt expression towards his faithful butler.   
He placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, letting him silently know things would be okay.  
"Alright, Leslie," Bruce acknowledged. "Yes, I will. Uh huh. I'll be sure to do that. Thank you, Leslie."  
Bruce hung up the receiver and focused his gaze down as he moved his body to face Alfred once more. His composure was shaken and Alfred was on his heels waiting for any information about his boy.

Bruce finally looked up and began relaying the conversation.  
"Those were Tim's results from the exam." Something of fear or hopelessness shadowed Bruce's features, causing concern for Alfred.  
"Do go on, Master Wayne," Alfred insisted, still clutching his duster in anticipation.  
Bruce continued, "Leslie found traces of dimethyl ether, ethanol, and tert-butanol in his rape kit."   
He paused allowing Alfred time to draw his own conclusions on the combination of the chemicals.  
Alfred remained puzzled, searching his mind for what the chemicals were found in: 

_Biofuel?_

_Propane?_

_Farm feed?_

The shock struck him hard when Alfred realized the common household item.  
"Hairspray?"  
Bruce nodded with closed eyes.  
"She also found old scarring from previous attacks and burns as well." Bruce took a breath, "I have reasons to believe, the person that attacked Tim, used a hot curling iron to defile him. It must have had residue from the hair products still on it before using it as a weapon.”  
"Oh dear," Alfred gasped, placing a withered hand over his gaping mouth. "For how long?" He mumbled.  
"The abuse has been going on for years," Bruce responded. "Not only that, I believe it's someone close to the family."  
"Oh no," Alfred whined.

Bruce regained his composure and instructed Alfred in a professional manner after seeing the butler lose his collected calm, “Alfred, I need you to take care of Tim."  
"Where are you going?" Alfred asked, watching Bruce unbutton his jacket.  
"I have some questions that need answering." 

Bruce stopped for a second in the doorway, turning his head back in Alfred's direction.  
As bruce loosened his necktie, his voice became more gravelly and his darkness billowed forth, **"The Batman is going to get to the bottom of this."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ A thermal burn is a type of burn resulting from making contact with heated objects, such as boiling water, steam, hot cooking oil, fire, and hot objects. ”


	10. Recurrent Involuntary Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No!” Tim shrieked as he swatted Alfred’s hand away from him. “You’re going to leave because you’re mad at me!”  
> “Timothy,” Alfred resisted using a stern tone as his empathy was resonating with his child, “Bruce is leaving because I’m sending him away, not because he’s mad. He does not have a choice in this matter.”  
> “He got mad because of me, Alfred!” Tim tightened his fists, tangling the fabric of Bruce’s sweater around his hand.

“Tim,” Bruce began as he opened Tim’s bedroom door and leaned in, “can I come in for a moment?”  
Tim was sitting at his desk, mindlessly staring at his computer monitor. Bruce noted the oddity of this visual when he quickly deduced Tim hadn’t been working on anything since his computer screen was just the desktop icons glowing back.

“Tim?” Bruce spoke again as he crossed the length of the room and approached Tim, still fixated at nothing on his screen.  
“Tim?” Bruce pressed his palm against Tim’s shoulder, but quickly recoiled when his son lurched forward in a startling fright.

“Oh God! I’m sorry!” Tim quickly said with panted breath after the realization it was only Bruce in his room. He clutched at his chest as he instinctively tried to slow his racing heart from the jump scare.  
“Tim, why would you apologize?” Bruce asked with discern in his voice.  
“Oh, um, I thought I scared you when I flinched. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
Tim kicked his feet out to roll his chair back so he could face Bruce.  
“Were you working on something?” Bruce questioned, lifting his finger to gesture towards the vacant computer screen.  
“What? Oh, no. Um, I was just finishing up some homework.”  
Bruce knew it was a lie, but decided it wasn’t worth mentioning.  
“Tim, I want to talk to you,” Bruce said while seating himself on the edge of Tim’s bed. He waited to continue while Tim spun his computer chair to face him, knees nearly touching from the closeness in proximity.  
“What happened?”  
Cutting right to the chase, Bruce wasn’t hesitating with small talk in order to get to the bottom of everything.  
Tim’s eyes dropped to the floor and the uncomfortable ease loomed over his posture.  
“Um, I....,” Tim stuttered while raking his fingers roughly through his hair.  
Bruce interjected after watching his son’s body language abruptly change, “I know this is very hard to talk about, but I have to help you as your father. Now, please tell me what happened.”  
Tim could feel his chest tightening as panic began to cut into his casual breathing. He wanted to escape from this conversation as quickly as possible, but he knew Bruce wouldn’t allow him to pussyfoot around this subject.  
“I don’t want to say it out loud, Bruce,” Tim finally said, looking up to meet Bruce’s gaze with pleading eyes.  
“Is it because you’re embarrassed?” Bruce questioned.  
“Um, I, um,” Tim struggled for his words, “I, um... if I say it out loud, um, it starts to feel real.” His fingers were fidgeting rapidly, digging his nails into the skin by his thumb nail to ease his tension. “It’s almost like it was just a dream if I don’t say anything.”  
“Tim,” Bruce said with a sympathetic, fatherly tone as he reached out to clasp Tim’s hands and cease their picking, “not talking about it won’t change the fact that it happened. I know you want to forget, but that’s just going to prolong your suffering. The sooner you accept it as reality, the easier it will be to work at overcoming it. Now, please tell me who hurt you.”  
Tim didn’t want to have this conversation. The overwhelming and intense emotions were becoming too much as he began to feel angry as a response to his vulnerable state.  
“Um,” Tim leaned back with force and cocked his head up to keep from allowing any tears to surface. Bruce tightened his grip on Tim’s balled fists, unsure if he was going to push away from him.  
“Where were you?” Bruce changed the question.  
“Um, I-I,” Tim’s stuttering continued with his emotions feeling out of control.  
“Who shot you?”  
The rapid interrogative questions were only building his anxiety and unease.  
“Why were you attacked in street clothes?”  
If Tim had been shot while wearing his Robin costume, Bruce wouldn’t have paid much attention, but he noticed immediately that his son, not Robin, was assaulted.  
“Bruce!” Tim could feel the hot burn of tears coming quickly.  
“Who did this to you?” Bruce was beginning to feel an irritation at his questions being avoided with every breath. He needed answers so he could avenge his son’s abuse.  
“Please?” Tim pulled at his wrists in which Bruce was still clutching tightly with no inclination he would release.  
“Were you shot first or after?”  
“Bruce, stop!” Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He would have ran away by this point if he could wrench his fists free from Bruce’s tight hold.  
“Who raped you?” Bruce’s voice was nearly a yell.  
Tim could tell he was angry now, and it was his fault.  
“Stop!”  
“Did they use an object?”  
“Stop!”  
“What did they use?”  
“Bruce!”  
“This wasn’t the first time, was it?!”  
“Let go!”  
“How many times?!”  
“Stop!”  
“HOW MANY TIMES, GODDAMMIT?!”  
“You’re hurting me!” Tim yelled back, pulling at his hands in a useless match of strengths.  
“WHO IS DOING THIS TO YOU?!”  
Bruce stood above Tim and pulled him up to a standing position by his wrists.  
“Ow! Stop, Bruce!” Tim shrieked as he instinctively tried to drop to his knees.  
“TELL ME WHO IS ABUSING YOU!”  
Tim was fighting to get his father to release his wrists, but he was frozen with fear to actually fight back. Bruce’s presence was striking as he growled for answers.  
“Please?! Please, stop!!! I’m sorry!” Tim pleaded with ferocity.  
“YOU WERE RAPED WITH AN OBJECT, WEREN’T YOU?!”  
“Stop! Please?”  
“WEREN’T YOU?!”  
“Please?!”  
“WEREN’T YOU?!”  
“I’m sorry! I’ll do anything! Just stop yelling! Please? I swear, I’ll do whatever you want! Anything! Just please, stop yelling at me! Please?! I swear! I won’t tell! Just stop!” Tim’s heavy sobs and strain to yell every word loud enough to stop Bruce’s interrogation aided in snapping his father free from his anger fueled rage.

He quickly dropped to his knees, releasing Tim’s wrists from his overly tight death grip, and placed his hands around his son whom crumpled into a sobbing heap.  
“I’ll do anything! I swear! I promise I won’t say anything! Please, stop!” Tim was rambling as he bowed his head and screamed his pleading cries to halt Bruce’s bull like, aggressive attitude.  
“Tim!” Bruce attempted to grab onto Tim’s shoulders to snap him out of his delusion, but he couldn’t get the boy to stop chanting his pleas.  
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” He screamed.  
“Tim,” Bruce grabbed ahold of Tim and pulled him into his chest to cease his son’s screams, “shhh, Tim, it’s okay!”  
Tim’s pleas were still playing like a record, but he lowered his volume to a more mantra like repeating phrase.  
“Please don’t hurt me anymore!”  
“Tim! Tim, I’m sorry,” Bruce said as he hugged his son tightly against his chest, pressing his hand lightly upon Tim’s ear to help secure him.  
“I won’t say anything, I promise...”  
“Tim, stop,” Bruce knew he lost control and went overboard and now his son was resorting back to a state of survival.  
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Bruce hushed as he held onto Tim.  
“Please?” His voice softened to a near whisper, hardly snapping out of his traumatized rant.  
“No, Tim. Stop.”  
Bruce rocked methodically as he listened to Tim cry and sob heavily.  
Everything he heard his son yell was probably the same words yelled to protect himself during his past abuse. This thought only fueled Bruce’s sympathetic pain even more.  
How could someone harm a child like this?  
“Tim?” Bruce softly coaxed, trying to get his son to snap out of his past and back into reality.  
He could feel Tim’s body shuddering in his arms from the amount of emotional trauma he was revisiting.  
“Tim, I’m so sorry-“  
“Master Wayne!”  
Bruce looked up to witness Alfred standing in the doorway with his mouth opened in disbelief.  
“Alfred!” Bruce was so blinded during his rage filled fury that he failed to notice the faithful butler enter the room.  
“I heard screaming and came at once!” Alfred looked with worry at the boy clutching onto his father, trembling from fear of being injured once more.  
“Bruce!” Alfred rarely spoke in this manner to his employer, but he felt his protection for the boy was more of a concern than pleasantries.  
“I think you should leave until things settle down, Bruce,” Alfred stated without falter.  
Bruce knew the way he reacted was too much for his son to handle, especially only days after enduring a terrible assault.  
He craned his neck to try to see his son’s somber face buried in his breast, but ceased when he felt Tim shift his face further from sight.  
“Tim,” Bruce began with his voice nearly inaudible, “please go to Alfred.”  
“No!” Tim achingly forced his voice to break from his raw throat.  
Alfred stepped precariously across the room to meet the two males huddled together.  
“Come here, my boy,” Alfred coaxed as he softly placed his gloved hands on Tim’s sides to help him to his feet.  
“No!” Tim shrieked as he swatted Alfred’s hand away from him. “You’re going to leave because you’re mad at me!”  
“Timothy,” Alfred resisted using a stern tone as his empathy was resonating with his child, “Bruce is leaving because I’m sending him away, not because he’s mad. He does not have a choice in this matter.”  
“He got mad because of me, Alfred!” Tim tightened his fists, tangling the fabric of Bruce’s sweater around his hand.  
“I’m not mad at you, Tim,” Bruce said while peeling back to separate from his boy leaning against him, “I am angry that someone hurt my son. It kills me inside to know someone did those things to you. I lost control and should not have yelled at you like that. I’m very sorry, Tim.”  
“Come here, Timothy,” Alfred said as he reached his hands back towards the crumpled child.  
Tim accepted his butler’s offer and reached out to hoist himself off Bruce’s lap.  
“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Tim squeaked with grief heavy in his voice. He averted his gaze to keep from seeing his father’s anger towards his failure to communicate.  
“No, Tim,” Bruce stated, “you did absolutely nothing wrong. I’m going to leave, but you know how to get ahold of me, okay?”

Bruce reached to wrap his fingers lightly around Tim’s wrist, but moved to caress his skin instead when he noticed a bruise near the bony knob on his child’s arm. Did he create that just now in his fitful rage, or was it there from the assault?  
“I love you, Tim.”

Tim looked up with a childlike stare at his butler, “Alfred, please don’t make him leave!”  
Alfred looked lovingly into Tim’s baby blue eyes, brimming with tears threatening to fall, “Timothy, what do you need right now in this moment?”  
“Um, I-I,” Tim hesitated, feeling a mix of anxious worry and embarrassment fueling his thoughts.  
“Timothy, my boy,” Alfred said softly, turning the teen to face him and center his focus only on his words, “speak your mind so it ceases to plague your thoughts. Take a breath-“  
Tim paused and forced a deep inhale.  
“Release it slowly-“  
Tim’s exhale was audibly shaky as he still fought to contain his composure.  
“Now, my boy, what do you need?”  
Tim finished his breath and while dropping his head he spoke in a low whisper, “my dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ Recurrent involuntary memories are autobiographical memories that come to mind with no preceding retrieval attempt and that are subjectively experienced as being repetitive. Clinically, they are classified as a symptom of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). ”


	11. Nonsuicidal Self-Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am fixated on the fresh cut.
> 
> All thoughts ceasefire as I focus on the accruing blood.  
> If this small laceration can cancel out the dark voices in my head momentarily, what can something on a larger scale do?

It's been months since the 'incident' happened. Bruce confronted me about the attack after receiving information from Leslie, but I still can't talk about it. Hearing the words leave my mouth, somehow makes it seem more real. I mean, it happened, and there's nothing I can do to change that, but I can try to forget it. Right?

The bruises decorating my flesh have since faded away. The stitches are out, and every cut has turned to pink, fresh scar tissue. I am completely healed.  
... So why do I still feel this way?  
How long does it take the mind to heal it's emotional scars?  
I just want the memories to stop. Check that; I just want the nightmares to stop.

I close my eyes and I can see the attacker above me. I feel so small as they scream their ferocious words that cut through me sharper than the knife they use to stab into the meat of my arm.

I open my eyes and the flashback fades into the background, but I can still hear it faintly playing like a broken record in my mind.

Has this become my life?  
A constant struggle trying to determine reality from fiction? Falsehoods plaguing every ounce of doubt I have about life?

The family has been babying me even more than before. I can tell they're walking on eggshells when I'm around. It's like I'm a ticking time bomb and their words are going to be the detonation to set me off.  
I want everything to go back to the way it was before.  
Now, they all see me as an impetuous weakling.

I can't stand this torment in my head. The deep internal cries are screaming for a release, but I continue to contain them deep inside.  
I bottle the emotions in a perpetual vial of darkness and despair as I put on a brave smile for my family.  
I will fool everyone that I am strong; even though I know I am useless.  
Worthless.

Bruce still won't allow me to go out on patrol. Not alone, nor with the family. My existence in the Batcave is pointless.  
I can't fault him, though. How can I be expected to save anyone when I can't even save myself?

The suffocating pain creates constriction in my chest, causing me to clasp my hand over my heart like a reflex. I'm tired of choking back the constantly threatening tears.

Only the weak shed tears.

Fury is bubbling over the metaphorical bottle I have been vehemently overfilling.

Stop it!

I clutch my hand into a fist and slam it onto my desk, causing a loud 'Thud!'   
The rage is boiling as I try to control my emotions once again.  
Muscles tightening, head racing with thoughts.... I hastily sweep my arm across the computer area out of sheer frustration, knocking everything onto the floor in a scrambled heap.

A picture frame of my parents clatters down amongst the fallen debris.  
I bend down and pluck the frame from the clutter.  
Dear Jack and Janet Drake stare back at me, forcing their shit eating grins, while little ol' me is absent from the photo. I've never witnessed true smiles from them during my whole childhood. That was the reason i spent so much time at Wayne Manor. I'm appreciated here. I have brothers. Bruce became a father to me.

Staring at their frozen images, the internal bottle erupts from every negative emotion I can fathom: anger, hatred, sadness, pity; a multitude of burdens hindering a clear thought.

I'm consumed by the darkness in my mind.  
With every ounce of strength I could muster, I heave the picture frame at the wall, shattering the glass into shards of my broken childhood dreams of a happy family.

I notice my breathing has become labored and I take a long inhale as I survey the catastrophe that has become my life.

I decide to clean up the broken shards before anyone comes in to check on the commotion I've been making. They may not have even heard, depending on their location in the manor.  
Gliding my hand across the floor, I brush the sharp pieces into a pile. I feel a hot nick on the tip of my finger and quickly pull back to see a small flap of skin dangling and the darkest shade of red seeping from the fresh wound.  
I should have known better than to use my hands, but with the racing thoughts, I wasn't able to think clearly enough in the moment.  
Bruce really was right not to let me patrol anymore. I really am a worthless imbecile.

I wipe the blood away onto the lower part of my jeans and check the damage once more. I carefully pick the flap of flesh from my finger to reveal a small, deep gash.  
I watch the crimson bubble of blood grow in size until it suddenly loses it's shape and a light stream of red runs down the length of my finger.

I am fixated on the fresh cut.

All thoughts ceasefire as I focus on the accruing blood.  
If this small laceration can cancel out the dark voices in my head momentarily, what can something on a larger scale do?  
I flicked some small pieces of glass out of the way as I searched the pile for my choice weapon. I found a large piece with a jutting, sharp edge I could easily grasp.  
My eyes danced delightfully as I slowly glided the homemade dagger across the underside of my forearm. A faint bit of red shined, but I was not pleased, yet. I needed more. A lackluster first attempt to alleviate my internal pain, only made my desire for physical pain even greater.

I placed the glass at the beginning of the red line and dragged it across my skin once more, applying more pressure this time. A burst of red ink blotted from the drawn line of the glass pen.  
I could feel a sigh release from my chest as my body filled with endorphins from the minuscule amount of pain.

I instantly became relaxed and tired. Not from the bleeding sliced flesh; I wasn't losing a significant amount of blood to be feeling sudden exhaustion from that, but it was from the euphoric sensation of finally not being plagued by the hateful voices in my head.

I haven't had a restful nights sleep for a long time, but my eyelids felt overly heavy now.

Dismissing the mess until the morning hours, I walked my corpse of a body to my bed and let the mattress swallow me whole.  
I felt peaceful as I laid my head on my pillow and gazed at the blood steadily leaving an imprint on the white sheets.  
I pinched the sides of the cut to make the blood momentarily darker and thicker, like sticky sap from a tree. Seeing the color change was like a hit from a drug, creating a magical high for my mind.  
I closed my eyes and drifted off into a calm slumber.

I finally found a useful tool to add to my arsenal of weapons against my emotions. I can keep the memories of yesteryear at bay with this new technique of torture.  
Everything can go back to normal while I inflict physical pain on myself whenever necessary to cancel the pain I'm feeling inside.

I mean, I want to tell Bruce the truth about everything that happened that night and in the past.  
But, how can I tell someone my own mother has been abusing me for years?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ Nonsuicidal self-injury (NSSI) refers to the intentional self-inflicted destruction of body tissue without suicidal intention and for purposes not socially sanctioned.”


	12. Sequelae (EXPLICIT)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He moved his hand to my hip and gripped at my flesh as his mouth decorated my skin with reddening osculations.  
> His hand stroked up towards the center of my stomach while I slightly parted my thighs, begging for his touch.  
> Jason appropriately responded and slid his fingers lower onto the inside of my thighs, but careful not to touch me where I wanted to be touched the most.

I awoke to the early dawn sunrise streaming into the room, causing the world to begin to stir from it’s warmth.  
However, I managed to resist that urge as my bed beckoned me for more sleep.

A heavy arm draped over my body as I realized I was using the other limb as a makeshift pillow. It continued flexing inward until I was tightly enveloped inside the massive hug.  
Jason pressed his face into my hair and I could hear his deep breaths as he continued to dream peacefully.  
He curled his legs under me, completely swallowing my entire frame and causing his groin to grind furtively against my thighs in his slumber.

I had explained everything to Jason last night about what I could remember from my past.  
Well, not everything, I guess.  
I omitted that last part about the abuse from my mother. I mean, both of my parents have been dead for some time now, and there’s no point in disclosing the information that she was abusing me. It’s not like she can apologize to me now.  
Nobody can change my past, so it’s best to just move on, get over it, and forget everything.

Forget....

If only I could....

I told Jason I would accept help, and I whole heartedly want to stop having nightmares over this, but it’s just so hopeless trying to convince myself that somebody can help such a weak individual.  
I’m afraid accepting help will force me to give up my securities that I’ve been using to ease my troubled mind over the years. To think about having those coping skills taken away, and then having to actually sit with the cocktail of emotions in my head, and memories, it’s enough to make me step back in secrecy once again to protect myself further.  
I’ve numbed myself from feeling in order to survive living with this guilt. I hate what I’m doing because it’s harming the family now that they’ve found out.

My body tensed tremendously with the welling emotions accumulating and I couldn’t help but to shake with minute convulsions as I tried to keep the tears at bay.  
I’m tired of crying.  
It’s meaningless and solves nothing.  
The dark memories of the past leave unforgiving footprints all through my mind as I am brought swiftly back into my old house where I see my mother.

I don’t understand why she hated me so much.

Why did she have a child, only to hate it as it grew up?

What did I do that was so wrong?

I hear a deep inhale from behind me and feel Jason grip my chest even tighter with a morning hug.  
“Mmmm, hey Babybird,” Jason exhaled heavily against the back of my neck, causing my skin to prickle with the tickling sensation.  
I fail to respond as I continue struggling to gain my composure.  
I don’t want him to know I was about to cry for some reason.  
Well, I know the reason; her scathing voice berating me, saying ‘only the weak cry’ as I suffered through the torturous pain she instilled upon me so long ago.

“Hey?” Jason sounded more awake now.  
I can feel his fingers softly tap my breast bone as he waits for my response.  
He clearly knows I’m awake.  
I’m such a fool.  
The panic grows when I can’t control myself. He’s waiting for my answer, but I know it will be obvious on my voice that I’m upset.  
I want him to think everything is okay, and that I’m fine.

“Timmy,” Jason calls again as he glides his fingernails against my skin, “it’s okay. You don’t have to hold it in.”  
I feel his moist lips kiss the back of my neck, sending electrifying chills throughout my body.  
I curl into myself more, wanting to disappear entirely just so he can move on with his life and not have to deal with me as a burden.

When I cover my face to hide the shame, Jason grips my wrist and pulls my hand away with little effort.  
“Don’t hide from me, Babybird,” Jason whispered as he pressed another kiss against my neck, tasting the salty bite of my skin.  
My head is swimming now.

“Do you want to talk to me?” He asked while rubbing his hand methodically up and down my side, pausing momentarily to grip my hip and readjust his pelvis for comfort.  
He must be disgusted with the way my body feels as he touches my bare skin. Feeling every individual rib probably causes his morning erection to become flaccid.

I shake my head.  
I can’t focus properly with the thoughts and memories running through my head, mixing with the pleasurable sensations I felt physically with Jason.

“Oh, Tim,” he heaves with an audible sigh against my skin as he traces his fingers against the taut flesh on my stomach.  
He grabs my waist and pulls me flush against his body; shifting his hips forward, he closes the gap between us.

I was dizzy with desirable lust and was forgetting my sadness the more I felt Jason’s contact.  
He caressed his fingers from my chest and down the length of my torso, causing my heart to jump when I felt his touch approach closer to my groin.  
He stopped just shy of my member and stilled his hand on my pubic bone as he left another salty bite on the nape of my neck.  
A low moan escaped from my lips as I felt a flush of passion coursing through every part of my body.  
I tilt my head back, exposing more of the sensitive skin on my throat as I silently request more from him.  
Jason willingly took the invitation and applied more juicy kisses along my quivering vocal cords.  
He moved his hand to my hip and gripped at my flesh as his mouth decorated my skin with reddening osculations.  
His hand stroked up towards the center of my stomach while I slightly parted my thighs, begging for his touch.  
Jason appropriately responded and slid his fingers lower onto the inside of my thighs, but careful not to touch me where I wanted to be touched the most.  
He gripped the inside of thigh and pulled passionately at the muscle, spreading my legs even wider as I thrust my pelvis into the air.  
I arch my back and reach my arm overhead to tangle my fingertips into his long hair.  
I was completely open to his touch now.

“Jayce,” another moan breached my lips as I felt him faintly trace a finger against my throbbing shaft.  
His teeth bit gently on my neck as his hardened erection pressed powerfully against my back.

He grabbed the inside of my thigh lovingly and rolled me towards him, leaving me to lay flat on my back and open.  
Jason pressed himself up onto his elbow as he loomed over me with a soft smile displayed on his beautiful features.

I wanted more of him.

He gingerly brushed my bangs from my eyes before moving in for a kiss. He held my face as I allowed his tongue to massage mine with care. The taste of stale cigarettes still lingered on his breath as he forcefully pressed his pout against my lips.  
I released my hold from his side and attempted to unburden him from the restraints of his boxers.  
He lifted his hips and helped pull them lower, letting his girth fall freely from the fabric as his stiff erection caught slightly on the elastic waistband.  
I eagerly wrapped my fingers around his member and tugged overzealously.  
We haven’t done this in a long while, so my eagerness didn’t translate to a gentle passionate grip.

Jason reached down and placed his hand over mine. As we continued our sensual liplock, he mimicked the slow, pumping strokes he desired from my hand.  
I bit teasingly onto his lower lip as he broke free and began to pull back from the kiss.  
He sat up onto his heels, cutting off the motions of my hand, and proceeded to grip the waistband of my boxers. I lifted my hips as he slid the fabric down my legs.  
The immediate shyness overcame me and I subconsciously closed my legs and darted my hands in front of my loins to hide myself.  
Jason angled his massive body over me, and slid his fingers onto the inside of my thighs, spreading them wide as he licked his lips and stared at my body with a drunken lust.  
I could hear him groan as he bent down and kissed the inside of my thigh, causing me to kick my head back against the pillow to suppress my own moaning.  
I tangled my fingers in his hair as he grabbed ahold of my erection and licked his tongue across the tip, allowing a string of precum to be swallowed.  
I was reeling in ecstasy.  
My thighs shook with desire as I felt his hot breath coat every inch of my manhood.  
He licked his tongue against my erection once again, only to pull me all the way into his mouth, sealing his lips around my full girth. I felt his tongue pawing at my frenulum and I felt an uncontrollable shake in my whole body.  
Jason’s mouth was doing wonders, but I didn’t think I could last much longer if I didn’t cease his suckling.

I felt the tip of his thumb trace the area near my entrance, and I instinctively flexed from the sensation.  
He looked up at me with a smirk after feeling how tight I was from the slightest touch.  
“Oh, Jayce,” I moaned again, tugging lightly on his hair.  
I wanted to kiss him again.  
I wanted so much more from him.  
I couldn’t handle anymore teasing from his fingers.

He raised up and crawled on top of me, allowing his own juices to drip against my rectum, creating a slickness as he ground his massive girth against my entrance in anticipation.  
The sensations felt too good, but I was desperate not to lose it yet.

“Jason, please?” I begged passionately as he tongued more solid kisses against my collarbone.  
He grabbed his erection and began sliding it around my entrance, using his bitter juices to lubricate me for what was about to occur.  
My heart raced with anticipation while my member ached for a release.  
Jason continued pumping his hand up and down the entire length of his shaft and allowed the fluid to get me even wetter for him.  
He licked his finger, allowing his tongue to fully coat his digit with saliva, and then reached down to press it at my opening.  
I swiveled my hips, practically begging for every part of him to enter inside of me.  
He began to press his finger in but was met with much resistance. I was tighter than usual since it had been a long time since we’ve done anything together.  
I tensed my muscles from the pressure I was feeling and made a grimace with my face and it began to feel painful the further he tried to go in.  
Jason lowered his lips to my ear and whispered, “just relax, Babybird.”  
My heart jumped from his command.  
“Jayce,” a startled gasp left my lips as I strained to relax my muscles.  
“Shhh,” he hushed before placing his lips against mine to stifle anything I planned to say.  
The feeling of his tongue penetrating my mouth quickly eased my muscles and made me want every inch of him to pump into me.  
He slowly glided his finger in and out, allowing the slickness to lubricate the opening.  
I could feel him coaxing in a second finger to help stretch me out.  
We both knew that sex wouldn’t feel good for me if I couldn’t even tolerate one of his fingers.  
As I relaxed my flexed muscles, I noticed I was able to grind my hips further down the length of his fingers to fully feel the stiffness penetrate me.

I tossed my head back and closed my eyes in pleasure. I was on the brink of exploding.  
I moaned from the sensation of feeling his long fingers stroking me from the inside, hitting my prostrate at the perfect angle.  
“Jason, please?” I pleaded.  
Jason placed his lips next to my ear again and I heard him whisper, “tell me what you want.”  
I could only moan as I felt his fingers pumping faster.  
“Say it, Babybird,” he ordered, finishing his demand with a nip to my earlobe.  
“Please....I want you in me,” I shyly managed to force out between euphoric gasps.

He glided his slick fingers out and grabbed his stiff member, lining the tip to my entrance and gently swirling pressure furtively while pumping precum onto my hole.  
“Do you want me to fuck you?” Jason asked crudely.  
I was so enthralled with the anticipation, all I could muster was an eager nod as I writhed my groin against his erection.  
“Say it,” Jason demanded.  
I wanted him desperately, I couldn’t take it anymore.  
I reached my hands up and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in so I could press my lips against his coarse skin. I planted my pout onto his parted mouth and let my tongue find it’s way inside. He massaged my organ briefly with his before I pulled away and whispered, “fuck me!”

Jason jerked his hips and thrust his member deep inside of me all at once, catching me off guard and causing me to gasp aloud.  
I wasn’t quite ready for his large rod, and experienced a mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming my physical being.  
He was slow to pull back, waiting for me to adjust to his large size, but I was clenching uncontrollably, trying to resist the tension.  
As his erection became more lubricated with each thrust, he began to quicken his pace.  
I was climbing with ecstasy and barely held onto my climax.  
Both of us moaned to the tempo of our love making. The slapping of our genitals creating a rhythm as he plunged deeper into me.

While Jason penetrated me with his iron sword, he wrapped his fingers around my own erection and began to pump his fist, massaging pleasure into me fully.  
“Cum with me, Babybird,” he lustfully moaned as he rubbed circles on the tip of my penis, allowing my juices to cover his palm.  
I couldn’t talk.  
I was so close my brain couldn’t comprehend speech.  
All I could do was moan as I ached for him to fill me with his seed.  
“Are you ready?” Jason eagerly exhaled, slowing his hips some so I could respond.  
He was always able to control his orgasms and I found it exhilarating the way he wouldn’t allow himself a release until I was pleasured first.  
I gasped for breath while pawing my hands at his broad chest.  
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he stated, waiting for a response.  
I nodded my head as dry inhales choked me for audible words. I was going to cum at that moment.

Jason returned to stroking my erection and thrusting his hips a little faster before I felt the release.  
I could feel the hot fluid spurting from my genitals as he gripped my member tightly for the last few tugs while I released everything onto my stomach.  
Before I had a chance to catch my breath, Jason grabbed my hip creases and slammed his hips hard into me. It was rougher than I could stand and I felt myself pressing my hands against his chest, pleading for him to stop.  
After several more forceful penetrations, I could feel his cum burning my insides as he released everything into me.

He peered down at me with deep inhales as I watched his intoxicated look of lust smile back at me.  
He leaned forward onto his knees and gently laid his face next to mine, careful not to let the weight of his body suffocate my frail frame beneath him.  
He placed a dry peck against my cheek and rubbed his fingers softly against my neck while watching my pulse throb.  
I never understood it, but Jason had a habit of staying inside of me after he came saying he enjoyed the feeling since he became overly sensitive, and he found it pleasurable to feel the way I continued to flex and tighten afterwards.

“I love you, Babybird,” he cooed as he rubbed my skin lovingly.

I hesitated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ A sequela (usually used in the plural, sequelae) is a pathological condition resulting from a disease, injury, therapy, or other trauma. In general, non-medical usage, the terms sequela and sequelae mean consequence and consequences.”


	13. Enuresis (GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/ EXPLICIT)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No mama! Don’t!” I remember screaming as tears poured from my eyes!  
> I would try to cover myself with my hands, but she would swing the iron until it connected, burning my skin with searing heat in the process.  
> “Stop fucking around! I don’t have all goddamn day to be fucking around with you!”  
> The pain was horrendous!  
> My skin blistered when the iron was slammed against my body as I disobeyed!  
> “Mama! Please?!” I cried!  
> I felt like a beast being inseminated as she held me between her legs so my haunches were raised in the air for easy access.  
> “You fucking want things in your ass then here you go! Take it all!”   
> And then she attempted to impale the iron into me....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to apologize for a derogatory term used in this chapter. It was used to show the vile nature of a certain character to instill hatred towards them.
> 
> I do not know the readers of my story, but I would like to apologize to those that may find this term hard to read. No one should ever call you this, and it only shows the low level of that person’s character for using said term against you.
> 
> If you identify as LGBTQ+, know that I 100% support you as a person and love you with all my heart for being brave enough to value yourself as an individual. 
> 
> You deserve to love anyone you choose no matter what sex they are. 
> 
> I love you all and want you to stay healthy in life, and be true to yourself. 💜💚

Jason lifted his head and coaxed my face towards him by pressing his fingertips against my sharp jawline.  
He pressed his lips against mine and I reciprocated a deep, longing kiss.  
I loved this man more than anything. But I never wanted to admit it out loud. I struggled with showing my feelings since I didn’t want others getting too close or falling in love with me.  
I would just disappoint them in the end.

“Hey,” he said while looking into my eyes with care, “stop overthinking things and just say what you feel.”  
Jason really was perfect.  
He made me smile even when I thought I couldn’t feel happiness ever again.  
I placed my hands on his strong sides and kissed him deeply once more, hearing his heavy inhale as he breathed in my scent.  
“I love you, Jason,” I finally managed to say as I released the kiss and leaned my forehead against his. “I love you so much!”  
Jason smiled after hearing my words and I knew it must have resonated with him since I felt his member jerk momentarily inside of me.  
He wrapped his arms around me, fully enveloping me with his wingspan and pulled me in to his chest as he rolled us so he could feel comfortable on his back.  
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Tim,” Jason said while holding me flushed against his naked body. I knew he wouldn’t release me since he expressed his love deeper than most.

He pressed his hands lower until he cupped the fleshy part below my waist and angled his hips upwards, impaling me stiffly onto his throbbing rod. I could feel him hardening inside of me, but I was already sore from the roughness moments ago.  
I definitely was not ready to endure a second round with Jason.  
I found it mystifying how he could go all night with little rest between love making sessions, but that’s Jason for you.

“Mmmm,” he groaned with his eyes closed, gyrating his hips in and out at a slow pace to tease himself. “I’ve missed doing this so much. I don’t think I’ll ever want to finish.”  
He pressed his lips against my scalp and I could tell he was already wanting more.  
“Jason,” I started to say, but hesitated.

I knew this would make him feel good, but it was hurting me. I didn’t know if I should say something to stop him so I could have a moment, or if I should just let him have his way.  
I just wanted him to be happy.  
I didn’t want to be selfish when I could see this was what would make him happy.

“Mmmm, what is it, Babybird,” he questioned while pressing my hips harshly against his groin.  
I was beginning to feel nauseous from the pain. I had tightened up so much from the orgasm and was much too sensitive to go a second time without a break. I felt like he was tearing me up as he continued to roll his hips.  
I wasn’t experiencing any bit of pleasure, but I couldn’t seem to say it to him for fear he would no longer have a use for me.

“Ah!” I shrieked a painful cry, but quickly hid my face against his chest to keep him from noticing a pained expression masking my features.  
I think he mistook my gasp for pleasure since he began slamming my hips harder against his groin, allowing his rod to become fully erect inside of me.  
I was hoping the residual fluid left inside of me would lubricate me more for this, but my body was raw and refusing to relax to the friction. I knew the tight sensation was enthralling for Jason to feel as I gripped his dick without restraint.  
“Oh, Tim,” Jason moaned.  
I wanted this for him.   
I could take the pain.  
I’ve done it before.  
I just have to disconnect while it’s happening and it’ll be over soon.  
It’s okay.

“Oh my god, Tim!” Jason moaned as he penetrated my straining entrance.  
The pain was beginning to feel unbearable.   
I couldn’t handle this.  
I didn’t want to do this again.  
It hurt too much.  
It was bringing me back to a terrible place.  
I could see her!  
I could see my mom in front of me!  
Why was I picturing her?!

Jason quickened his pace and pierced me again and again relentlessly.   
I couldn’t take it!  
I saw her!  
I closed my eyes and only saw her!  
I didn’t want to see her!

“Does this feel good?” Jason moaned as he slowed his thrusts in order to allow me to talk coherently.  
I had pressed my face against his chest so he couldn’t see me wincing in pain the entire time. He thought any sounds or tension in my muscles was from pleasure, but I hated this!   
I didn’t want this!  
I was afraid!  
The pain!  
I remember the pain!

With my eyes tightly shut I watched her grab the iron she had used to curl her hair!   
She flicked the switch and the glow of the machinery burned into my eyes as I begged for clarity!  
What had I done that she was mad about!  
I didn’t understand!  
I tried to be a good boy!

Jason pressed my hips harshly upon his sword and he swirled his groin to tease himself deep into my warm hole.  
“Tell me what you want, Babybird,” he moaned for more.

But all I heard was the voice of my mother in my head: “tell me why, you fucking faggot!”  
She had just discovered I was sleeping with Conner.  
“You want things in your ass than you’ll get it!” She screamed as she forced me to undress in front of her.  
I hated this!  
I didn’t want this!  
I didn’t know loving another man was wrong!  
“Fucking bend over!” She demanded.  
She frightened me so much!   
I wanted someone to save me!  
I was so terrified!  
But no one came!  
I was alone!

When I refused, she would slap me in the face and force me to the ground!  
I couldn’t fight back!  
I couldn’t hit my own mother!  
“Please don’t do this!” I would scream.

“Please?” The whisper escaped my mouth.   
I didn’t realize the words were leaving my lips until it was too late.  
“Mmm, you want more?” Jason moaned while he continued penetrating me.  
I didn’t mean for that to come out!  
I lost my sense of reality and didn’t realize I was letting the words flow from my vocal cords.  
“Get on your knees and I’ll make you feel really good,” Jason coaxed, but I couldn’t move.   
I was paralyzed with fear as I was reliving the past!  
My body was so tense with rigor, causing everything to ache in tremendous agony, inside and out.

“Get on your fucking knees, you filthy piece of shit! I’ll make sure to make it so you can’t let another faggot stick his dick inside of you ever again,” she hollered as she pressed my face into the ground with her heel.  
“No mama! Don’t!” I remember screaming as tears poured from my eyes!  
I would try to cover myself with my hands, but she would swing the iron until it connected, burning my skin with searing heat in the process.  
“Stop fucking around! I don’t have all goddamn day to be fucking around with you!”  
The pain was horrendous!  
My skin blistered when the iron was slammed against my body as I disobeyed!  
“Mama! Please?!” I cried!  
I felt like a beast being inseminated as she held me between her legs so my haunches were raised in the air for easy access.  
“You fucking want things in your ass then here you go! Take it all!”   
And then she attempted to impale the iron into me....

I was so scared that I clenched as tight as I could!  
I didn’t want this!  
This wasn’t right!  
When the dryness of the iron didn’t allow her to fully penetrate me, she would hit me repeatedly with it all over my thighs and back.  
I didn’t know why she was so angry!  
“Is this why everyone likes you, you fucking faggot?!”  
She then grabbed a canister off her beauty table and sprayed it at my entrance, causing the chemicals to sting my broken skin into submission.  
While the fluids clung to my skin, she would grab the iron once again and stab it into me, breaking the seal and pushing as hard as she could inside of me!  
The burning sensation made me wretch as the pain was too unbearable!  
I instinctively flexed, but this only made the burning worse!  
I remember pissing on the floor because of the abuse.  
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I heard her scream after I did it.  
“You’re going to pay for that!”

“Here, Tim, get on your knees,” Jason coaxed as he pulled himself free from my hole and started to raise up, edging me over to the side.  
Panic was beginning to overflow my emotions, but I resisted allowing Jason to see my face.  
I wanted him to feel good.  
This was making him happy.  
I could keep going for him.  
This pain didn’t compare to the past.  
I could endure this for just a bit longer.  
For him....

I raised my hips up and bowed my head so I could rest my face on the pillow, hiding my shame in the process.  
Jason moved to kneeling behind me and gripped my cheeks to spread them apart. He placed his thumb inside of me as he stroked his opposite hand against my flaccid dick; only assuming I wasn’t erect because I had just came moments ago.  
He kissed my lower back as he allowed his hands to stroke me from inside and out.  
Why didn’t this feel good?  
Why couldn’t I see the difference?  
Jason wasn’t trying to hurt me!  
I felt him lick his tongue on my ass cheek and suck the skin to leave a branded hickey.  
Normally, I would have loved feeling him touching me.  
I hated that I was ruining this moment because of my own personal hangups.  
He pressed his saliva coated fingers into me to make sure I was still stretched for him to enter for a second time.  
“Mmm, Babybird, you don’t understand how good you make me feel when I do this,” Jason announced as he continued to fondle me.  
I tried to relax so he could just hurry up and finish.   
I wasn’t into this!   
I was ruining the moment for him!  
I just wanted him to be happy!

“Are you ready?” He exhaled with a gasping breath.  
I wanted to ask him to stop!  
I was no longer comfortable because my past came back to ruin this moment!  
I just nodded and wiggled my hips some to hurry him along.  
He raised his hips and lined his erection up, gliding it in fairly easily from this spread angle.  
“Oh God!” He moaned upon entering me, allowing full penetration all the way to the hilt.  
He gently began to thrust in and out, making sure I was relaxed enough to not cause me any discomfort.  
But my mind had already ruined the moment.

After pissing on the floor, Mom lost any ounce of care she may have been holding back for me.  
She stabbed the iron in and out, but it barely moved due to the dryness as it burned me from within!  
I screamed out of sheer pain, hoping for someone to save me from her abuse!  
I cried so forcefully, but my body refused to fight!  
The pain was debilitating and made my body stiff with rigor just trying to endure!  
I was laying in my own piss as she ruthlessly defiled me over and over until she finally had enough.

“Tim!” I heard Jason holler, snapping me from my daze.  
I realized he had pulled out and was holding my hips as I felt warm liquid around my knees.  
Oh no!  
I looked down and saw I had pissed the bed!  
I had been so wrapped up in my memories that I began reliving my past entirely!  
I was mortified!  
The humiliation of ruining our moment together!

“Oh God!” I yelped as I hopped from the bed and began to race towards the bathroom.  
Jason was only steps behind from my sudden burst of energy, but I managed to close the door before he was able to approach me.  
I slid my back against the heavy door and burst into tears while I held my embarrassed face in my hands.  
“Tim?” Jason called through the door, tapping lightly for me to hear.  
I could tell he was worried by his tone of voice.  
“Tim, open the door. Just let me in so I can talk to you, okay? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”  
I didn’t want him to be nice to me. My shame and embarrassment was filling my psyche and I wanted to disappear from all of existence.  
I could hear Jason jostling the locked doorknob. Then came his soft voice, “hey buddy, can I come in?”  
“Please leave me alone,” I cried with a crack in my voice as I made no attempt to stifle my tears.  
“I’d sooner break down this door than walk away from you right now,” he voiced. “Come on, buddy. Open the door so I can talk to you. I don’t want to feel like I’m talking to a wall when I already know you’re upset.”  
“Please just go, Jason,” I begged as I shook violently with the heavy wails of my past and present colliding.

I just wanted to be left alone.   
I couldn’t face him after embarrassing myself in that manner.

“Tim, it’s just bedsheets. They can be washed. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Now, please open the door so I can see you.”

I knew he wouldn’t leave, and I really didn’t want to cause him any further frustrations by allowing him to continue asking to be let in; so I just accepted his request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Enuresis is derived from a Greek word (enourein) that means “to void urine.” It refers to the act of involuntary urination and can occur either during the day or at night.”


	14. Suicidal Ideation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My eyes burned with the never ending outpour of salty tears as I tried to voice my burdens, “I don’t understand why I can’t just get over this since she’s already dead! I mean, why does it still bother me so bad?! Why am I plagued by these nightmares every single night?! I just don’t get it! I hate that everything I do, nothing makes me forget! I can numb out for awhile when I feel physical pain that holds my focus, but once I get used to it, all I see are the memories! I hate this, Jason! I really do! I’m to the point that I’d rather be dead than have to relive this fucking nightmare over again in my head!”

I scooted myself against the wall, out of the way from the swing of the door, and reached to unlock the knob.  
After hearing the click, Jason proceeded to slowly open the door and saw me sitting on the floor holding my legs to my chest.  
“Hey, buddy, what’s going on?” He asked as he knelt down in front of me.  
I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I was so mortified and disgusted with myself.  
“Are you okay?” He asked softly, placing his hands upon my knees.  
I shook my head for a ‘no’ in response.  
“Is it something I did?” He questioned as he caressed his hand up and down my thigh, just below my arm that clutched my legs to form a tight ball.  
“I’m sorry, Jayce,” I whined as I tried to subdue my cries; but too much of my past was still resonating with me to do so effectively.

“What are you apologizing for, Babybird?”   
Jason was being so comforting towards me. He could tell something was wrong inside my head at this point.  
“I just wanted to make you happy!” I blurted out before another round of heavy sobs erupted.  
“Come here, kid,” Jason beckoned as he pulled me close, spreading his legs around me so I could lay up against his warm chest.  
“You don’t have to do anything to make me happy, especially if it makes you uncomfortable. Okay? If you weren’t ready for this, you can just tell me and I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”

I tensed my muscles as he spoke the word ‘force’, causing me to quickly remember my past once again.  
I hated these brief flashbacks.

“Is this about what happened to you in the past?” Jason asked, obviously feeling my body stiffen in his arms when he spoke with terminology that triggered my every thought.  
I looked up at his face to see if I could determine any non verbal cues from his facial expression if he was bothered by my issues.  
He placed his palm on my neck, and tilted my head more so I couldn’t look away.  
“Thank you for looking at me,” he sighed. “You don’t have to feel ashamed about anything. I know that you went through something terrible when you were younger, and it wasn’t your fault. I saw the bruises on your thighs when you were laying on the operating table back then. I’m the one that pointed them out to Alfred because I was scared and I didn’t know what to do. You haven’t told me what happened, and that’s okay. But if it’s something that is continuing to cause you pain to the point that you are taking it out on your own body, then I would like for you to talk to me; or somebody.”

Jason was referring to the long gashes on my arms that he helped to bandage late last night after seeing the fresh cuts.  
“Talking about it won’t change what has happened!” I wailed as I pulled his hand to release the grip from my jaw so I could look away in shame.  
“I know, Bud,” Jason said as he allowed me to hang my head, and moved to just wrap his arms around me for comfort. “I can’t fix your past, but I can help you right now so you don’t have to keep doing this in the future.”  
I felt my heart thump everytime Jason said something kind to me. He really was a gentle soul.

“What happened in there?” He began, flicking his head towards the bedroom, “what brought that on?”  
I couldn’t say.  
The shame and guilt were too much.  
“Please talk to me, Babybird. Help me understand.”  
I heaved a sigh before allowing the words to break free, “I don’t want to explain anything out loud because that will mean it actually happened.”  
Jason looked at me with confusion in his eyes, “Babybird,” he spoke before sighing, trying to think about how he wanted to verbalize his poetic speech, “whatever happened to you... happened. Whether you choose to hold it in, or you release the burden and speak up about it, the fact of the matter is that you went through something terrible that nobody should have to go through. I already know something happened to you, and I can guess as to what that was; and you know it happened too. Keeping the words in secret doesn’t change the fact that the event occurred. Okay?”

I couldn’t stand this!  
He was correct.  
But that didn’t make it any easier to find the courage to tell him my painful story.  
“Jayce?” I weakly called, holding back the tears while I tried to decide what to do.  
“Hm?”  
“Umm, I-i....” I couldn’t say it. The words were lost as they swirled carelessly in my mind.  
“It’s okay, Babybird. Just take a breath and then just speak. See the words as meaningless.”

Meaningless?   
The words are just words; there’s no connection to them and the event.  
They mean nothing.  
I took a deep breath and sighed out my exhale. I disconnected my thoughts from my words and I forced myself to speak:  
“My mom abused me.”

.........

The words left my lips and it felt like a dream. I couldn’t believe I just said it out loud. I couldn’t tell if I thought it in my head so often that this was just the same feeling, or if I actually said it to the one man I love most.  
“What did she do?” Jason quietly asked.

I was flabbergasted that my mouth continued to speak like verbal diarrhea was relentlessly pouring out:  
“She forced me to my knees and used a curling iron.”

I couldn’t believe I was saying the words.  
I wanted to go back to having my secrets again. But something inside me was pushing forward to stop hiding from the truth.  
“Why did she do it?” 

I could tell he was upset. He contorted his face as I spoke.  
“I grew up with her hitting me, but things escalated after she found out I slept with Conner.”  
Jason had assumed i was sleeping with Conner at one point, but this was before him and I had feelings for one another. It wasn’t until Conner died that I began to notice Jason in a different light.

“She was against you being with another man?”  
“She would...ummm... she’d.... umm,” I was caught stuttering while trying to release this part from my memory. It hurt me when she’d scream it at me, like it was a filthy thing to be gay.

“She’d call you derogatory names?”  
Jason sensed my struggle and offered a guess for what she did.  
I nodded without divulging the words she would call me.  
“Umm... she... that day...” I exhaled sharply as frustration began to build while I tripped over my words.  
“It’s okay. I’m listening,” Jason coaxed.  
“Umm, that day- the day she did that to me- umm, I- it hurt so bad that I... ummm, I-I ended up pissing on the floor. I just- I just-“ I slammed my fist down with the frustration to try to speak clearly, “I just couldn’t take the pain!”

Jason grabbed my balled fist gently and held it so I wouldn’t hurt myself after my explosive outburst.  
“Is that why you had the accident in there?” Jason asked, gesturing towards the bed once again.  
I nodded in shame.  
“That position- feeling the pain- I guess I just regressed!” I felt my body shudder as the emotions all released at once.  
“Oh, Babybird, it’s okay.”  
Jason held me in his arms and rocked his body methodically to comfort us both.  
“Why didn’t you tell me to stop? I would never have kept going if I knew you were in any kind of pain.”  
“I just wanted to keep you happy!” I wailed from the hollows of my core.  
“No, Tim! I don’t need sex to be happy! I would have been fine just waking up in the morning and holding you! You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable just because you think it’s what I want! Okay?”

Jason was too much.   
His kindness was easily tearing me apart.  
I didn’t deserve to be with him.  
I was a disgrace to the human race.

“Tim,” Jason called to me, “I don’t know what to do for you. I can listen to everything you have to say, but I don’t know how to fix this.”  
My eyes burned with the never ending outpour of salty tears as I tried to voice my burdens, “I don’t understand why I can’t just get over this since she’s already dead! I mean, why does it still bother me so bad?! Why am I plagued by these nightmares every single night?! I just don’t get it! I hate that everything I do, nothing makes me forget! I can numb out for awhile when I feel physical pain that holds my focus, but once I get used to it, all I see are the memories! I hate this, Jason! I really do! I’m to the point that I’d rather be dead than have to relive this fucking nightmare over again in my head!”  
Jason quickly grabbed the back of my head and pressed me hard against his chest. I could feel his chest heave as he gripped me so tight that my body began to scream in agony from the crushing sensation.  
I could tell he was crying.  
All because I wouldn’t shut my mouth; now he was crying.  
It was because of me.

“If you ever feel like taking your life,” Jason spoke with a shaky voice as he tried to harness his strength in order to say what he wanted to tell me, “come find me. I can’t do this without you. I can’t live without you, Tim. All I’m asking is for you to just hold on for one more day. Please, for the love of God, just keep fighting!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ Suicidal ideation (or suicidal thoughts) is thinking about, considering, or planning suicide. It is not a diagnosis, but is a symptom of some mental disorders and can also occur in response to adverse events without the presence of a mental disorder.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work was once posted on FFN, but the site forced me to abandon it unexpectedly when the format changed on mobile, and I could no longer access the story easily.  
> But it is coming back.


End file.
